Translation of Light
by Matroushka
Summary: This chapter: Harry and Ron go sleuthing. They don't find exactly what they expected, however. No DH spoilers. HP RW slash.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: If Harry had believed that defeating Voldemort would bring an end to his troubles, he would have been sadly mistaken. Fortunately, he was never that optimistic. In an increasingly paranoid, prejudiced and isolationist post-war wizarding society, Harry finds himself with far too many secrets for someone hoping for a long life. Like the fact that he's gay, and in love with his womanising best friend. And financing an underground resistance movement or two. And far more powerful than he dare let anyone suspect. But Fate hasn't finished with Harry Potter yet. Voldemort had a secret of his own. Harry hasn't uncovered that one yet, but when he does, it'll change everything.

Chapter 1

Harry stood, eyes closed, forehead resting against the cool wood of the door, cursing his own stupidity. This had gone on long enough. Ron kept pulling this shit, and Harry was at breaking point. He pounded his head against the door, muttering, "stupid," over and over, then suddenly stumbled forward as it was whisked open.

"Harry! You're early, come - oof!" Blaise braced himself, but Harry's momentum knocked them both to the floor.

"Oh damn, I'm sorry, Blaise." Harry dragged himself to his feet and offered Blaise his hand. "I wasn't expecting the door to open so suddenly."

"Well, you were banging hard enough," Blaise said as he straightened his dressing gown. He looked up at Harry, who was wearing jeans, t-shirt and a morose expression instead of the expected suit, and the grin fell from his face. "Bloody hell, not again. Am I to assume that you were finally trying to pound some sense into your head with the assistance of my front door? Because I swear I've just about given up."

Harry just shrugged half-heartedly. Blaise shook his head. "How about you get us both a drink then come and sit with me while I finish my face. It's about time you told Aunty Blaise what the hell is going on." He gestured vaguely towards the bar in the living room with an impeccably manicured hand before wafting into the bedroom.

Harry poured their drinks and then wandered into the bedroom to find Blaise sitting in front of an elegant dressing table, expertly applying his make-up. Actually, elegant pretty much described everything about the spacious flat, including its owner. Blaise Zabini was the epitome of sophistication: tall, willowy, with dusky skin and black hair that fell in waves about his delicate features. He carried himself as though he owned the world. Harry always felt vaguely oafish around him, and he had to fight the urge to check his fingernails and make sure he hadn't traipsed mud in. Blaise had laughed until tears ran down his cheeks when he'd admitted this one day. Harry had been horribly embarrassed until Blaise had kissed him, and told him it was the nicest compliment anyone had ever given him.

Harry put Blaise's drink on the dressing table, then sat on the end of the enormous, silk-swathed bed that dominated the room. He finished his drink in two swallows, and then sat staring into the empty glass.

Blaise put the finishing touches to his lipstick, blotting it carefully before picking up his glass and delicately sipping at his gin and tonic. He eyed the despondent figure for a moment.

"We'll just assume that Ron is the reason you've turned up at my flat two hours early, wearing rags and looking like your owl just died, shall we?" Blaise said as he picked up a hairbrush and turned back to the mirror to start work on his hair.

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes. Or Hedwig." He was spot on about Ron, though. Harry slumped forward, the very picture of abject misery. "I can't do this any more. It hurts too much."

Blaise sighed. "Falling in love with straight boys always does, sweetie."

"He's driving me crazy. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I keep telling myself he'll never be anything more than just my best friend, you know? But he's making it so hard..." Harry looked up and glared at Blaise, who was obviously trying to pretend he hadn't just sniggered and muttered something that sounded like 'I'll bet'.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Blaise said, raising a hand defensively. "I just couldn't help myself." He twisted his expression into what Harry assumed was supposed to be penitence, but looked more like someone trying desperately not to laugh as he quickly turned his attention back to his own reflection in the mirror.

"This is serious, Blaise! I'm having a crisis here. A little sympathy wouldn't hurt."

Blaise put down his hairbrush and turned to face Harry. "I said I'm sorry! But honestly, this has been going on for months now. And whilst angst can be really attractive in small doses, the whole tall-ish, dark and broody thing is starting to get old. Working your way through my bar is no substitute for actually talking about things, trust me. A problem shared and all that. But all you ever say is, 'Ron's driving me nuts', and when I offer sound, sensible advice, you ignore me. I eventually give up trying to pound some sense into your thick skull, you get wasted, and any tall redhead in the vicinity gets lucky. Rinse and repeat."

Harry felt his face heat up. "I'm sorry if I'm such a bother to you," he said tightly.

Blaise sighed and shook his head. "Don't be a prat. That's not what I meant and you bloody well know it. I just hate to see you doing this to yourself." Blaise stood, picked up his drink, then put a hand under Harry's chin and tilted his head so he could drop a kiss on Harry's lips. "I need a cigarette, and I'm sure you could probably use a refill."

Harry followed Blaise into the living room and got himself another drink while Blaise lit a cigarette, hit a button on the CD player and then arranged himself on the couch. He patted the seat next to him and said, "Okay. Sit. Talk."

As the music began to play, Harry sat next to Blaise and muttered, "Patsy Cline? I thought I was depressed enough already." Blaise rapped him sharply on the leg.

"Ms. Cline is never depressing. Now, talk to me."

Harry sipped his drink as he tried to gather his thoughts. He really didn't want to talk about Ron. The whole situation was confusing and painful, and he didn't need Blaise calling him an idiot again while pointing out the obvious. But at the same time he knew that he was the only one he could talk to about this. He was also taking far too long for Blaise's rapidly diminishing store of patience.

"Why, oh why is there never any Veritaserum lying around when you need it? Okay, this isn't getting us anywhere. How about I start, and you can feel free to jump in anytime." Blaise cleared his throat dramatically, and said, "Once upon a time, there was a boy called Harry, who lived in a hovel in Diagon Alley with his best friend, Ron. Harry loved Ron very, very, much. But Harry was too -"

"Blaise."

"- stupid to do anything about it. He was also too scared to say anything, which is very, very odd because Harry was a Hero, who -"

"Blaise."

" - rushed off to kill Dark Lords at the drop of a hat. Some people would say that he did this because he was very, very frustrated -"

"Blaise! Enough, all right?"

"It speaks! You know, I'm rather good at this. I should write children's books," Blaise said brightly. At Harry's scowl he continued, "For God's sake, just spit it out and then we can bitch about it together. What's he been doing that has you in such a tizz? Did you find out that he's been screwing his conquests in your bed? Maybe some conniving little witch has finally managed to get a second date? Or... Damn - he's not getting married, is he?"

"What? No, of course not. Nothing like that. He's... Look, over the last, what, four months, maybe? Yeah, at least four months, he's been acting really oddly. He stares at me; you know that feeling you get when someone's watching you? But when I look up he looks away. And he's started touching me all the time. Patting me on the back to say hello, slinging his arm over my shoulder, straightening my collar and brushing off my jacket when we're going out, that sort of thing. And he keeps taking his clothes off in front of me and -" He shot a glare at Blaise who'd made a sort of gurgling sound that he'd tried, unsuccessfully, to turn into a cough.

"Go on," said Blaise, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetie," Blaise said as he crushed out his cigarette and took a sip of his drink, studiously avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then said, "Look, I know what it sounds like. But it's not funny. Because all the time he's doing this stuff, he's telling me about some girl he fancies, or has asked out, or who came into the shop and asked him out. Or he's telling me in excruciating detail about the strippers at the club the twins keep taking him to." Harry took a sip of his drink, then continued, "I know he's not doing it on purpose, he doesn't know how I feel about him and he wouldn't deliberately hurt me like that. But it's killing me."

"Oh, Harry." Blaise put a hand on Harry's knee and gave it a little squeeze.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. Well, today was the last straw. Ron was getting ready to go out with his latest bimbo, and I tapped on the bathroom door to let him know I was popping out for an hour. I was going to nip into the club to drop off those quotes for Martin, so he could have a look at them before he opened up. I mean, I know he told me it was up to me, but he knows the business better than I do and really, you should have a look at them as well -"

"Harry!" He looked up, startled. "You're rambling, sweetie. And much as I would love to talk about my gorgeous man, you're telling me what Ron did that was so bad it had you trying to dislodge the memory using on my front door as a blunt instrument."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Well anyway, I shouted through the bathroom door that I was leaving, and suddenly it opened, and..."

"And?" Blaise prompted as Harry fell silent again. "So what did he do?"

"Do?" said Harry blankly. "He just stood there, dripping wet, holding a towel in front of him. I couldn't take my eyes off him. There was a bead of water running down his chest, and I just wanted to drop to my knees and lick it off and... I'm not sure what happened next. Maybe I moaned, or made a sudden move or something, but he gasped and dropped the towel, and he was hard, Blaise. I mean, I just stared, and he knew; the look on his face... I panicked. I Apparated straight out of there - didn't even think about where I was going. Bloody lucky I didn't splinch myself." Harry picked up his drink with an unsteady hand and finished it in one swallow, the look of shock on Ron's face as they'd stared into each other's eyes just before Harry had Apparated away playing over and over in his mind.

He looked up in surprise as Blaise plucked the glass from his hand and sloshed whisky into it.

"Medicinal," he said as he pressed the glass back into Harry's hand.

"Yeah, so, Ron's probably wondering what the fuck happened, and I've got no idea what I'm going to say." Harry stared into his glass. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and said, "I think it's time."

"You won't get any arguments from me on that score. But Harry..." Blaise hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and ploughed on, "I'm going to say something, and I want you to think carefully about it, okay? Ron assumes you're straight, yes? So how do you think he'd react if he suddenly realised that what he felt for you was a lot more than friendship?" Blaise raised a hand as Harry opened his mouth. "No, hear me out. I mean, Ron's not exactly known for his emotional maturity, is he? No offence," he added quickly as Harry glared at him. "And subtlety and tact have eluded him for years. It's just that, what you're describing sounds exactly like a blundering Gryffindor having doubts about his sexuality and desperately trying to hide it. Imagine it; he's attracted to you, he knows he should keep away but he's like a moth to a flame, hence all the looking, touching, attention seeking stuff, but it's scaring him to death, so he blathers on about girls because then he can lie to himself about it. He probably thinks he's done a wonderful job at covering it up, and that you haven't noticed a thing, because God knows you're totally oblivious to anything less obvious than a brick across the back of the skull."

"I am not!" Harry said indignantly. After a moment he added, "Am I? Really?"

Blaise nodded solemnly. "You've got no idea the lengths that Weasley girl had to go to, to get your attention, have you? For all the good it did her."

Harry wasn't sure whether he should feel insulted or not. Admittedly, he'd always found it difficult to believe that people wanted him for anything other than his fame, or more recently, his money, but Ron was his best friend. Surely he'd know; he knew him better than anybody. Fuck, he was confused. "I don't know, maybe... No. No." He shook his head firmly. "I know for a fact that he was sleeping with Hermione when they were together. And more than one of the girls he's gone out with has dragged him into the bedroom the minute they got in the door. He's straight."

"Harry, I fucked girls at Hogwarts. It doesn't mean a thing. Granted, it was self-preservation in my case. I couldn't risk anyone getting suspicious before I was old enough to grab the dosh and run. Oddly enough, I found the prospect of the Paterfamilias stunning me and Fidelitas-binding me to some poor, unsuspecting witch to preserve the family honour strangely unappealing. But the point is, I did it, and I even enjoyed it once or twice. Doesn't make me the posterboy for happy heterosexuality, now does it?"

Harry looked at Blaise; legs crossed as he delicately perched on the couch. He was wearing a full-length peach satin kimono-style dressing gown, and dangling a matching high-heeled slipper from a dainty foot. "Obviously not, but it's different with Ron."

"No, not really. So he's having sex with women. Big deal. It's not like he's prepared to admit there are any other options, right? And it certainly doesn't mean that he's not interested in you; but he's even less likely to come out and admit it than you are. After all, as unconventional as the Weasleys are, they're still purebloods. You Muggle-raised wizards have no idea what lengths magical families will go to, to ensure that no shame is brought to their name. Ron does." Blaise flapped a hand at Harry as he began to protest. "Yes, yes, I know Muggles can be just as homophobic as any wizard, but they don't have the magical means to permanently enforce their views, if you get my drift."

"I really can't see Molly or Arthur going to those sorts of lengths, although Molly has made her feelings on the subject quite clear."

"Mmm. Really must thank Ron's mother for that one day," said Blaise, a sour expression crossing his face. "It's done wonders for your self-esteem."

"It wasn't aimed at me. She didn't know how I felt."

"Oh, of course, silly me. If she'd known you were lusting after her baby boy at the time, she'd never have said such an awful thing."

"Fuck you, Blaise," said Harry wearily. Molly's diatribe against 'unnatural perversions' and 'abominations' had been made at a gathering of the Order three months after the War had ended. A couple of people had looked uncomfortable at her comments, but everyone else had agreed wholeheartedly. Harry had just begun to ask Ron what on earth had set her off like that, when Remus had tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he could have a word, in private. Remus' concise and dispassionate explanation of Molly's comments, and how they reflected the general view of homosexuality within the wizarding world, was deeply distressing to Harry, who had finally come to terms with the fact that he was in love with his very male best friend. Harry had solemnly nodded and thanked Remus for telling him. Then he'd excused himself, found a bathroom and was copiously and violently sick. He sighed heavily at the memory, and Blaise tutted at him.

"Oh, cheer up, for pity's sake. Nil desperandum and all that. I really do think I'm right about Ron, you know."

Harry finished his drink and ruthlessly tried to stomp on the little tendril of hope that that thought brought with it. He'd begun to suspect something very similar himself, but had firmly filed away such thoughts under 'wishful thinking' and tried very hard to ignore them.

"No, it doesn't work that way. Just because I want him to feel that way about me doesn't mean it'll magically happen. Not for me, anyway."

Blaise huffed. "I'm not saying that, you idiot. Look, you two have always been close. You were raised Muggle, so you were more open to understanding what your feelings for him meant. I'm betting that something happened that made him suddenly see things as they really were. Think back. Did his behaviour towards you change out of the blue?" At Harry's raised eyebrows, Blaise snorted and added, "Before he started acting oddly!"

Harry leant back and stared at the ceiling as he considered Blaise's question. He couldn't really think of anything, although...

"Actually, he did do something odd after New Year's Eve, now you mention it. We went to a party at Fred and George's flat. We both got rat-arsed, and Ron was pretty down 'cause Hermione'd turned up with her new boyfriend. Well, fiancé now." Harry furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to dredge up the memories of that drunken night. "Don't remember too much about it, really, or how we got home, come to that. Must've passed out or something. Ron wasn't there when I woke up. He'd left a note saying he was going home for a couple of days. I felt a bit, well, hurt, I suppose, 'cause I'd always stayed at the Burrow with him, you know? And when he came back he had some bird with him. He barely said two words to me and they spent the whole weekend in his bedroom."

"Ah, that explains it, then. I wondered why you suddenly decided to move in with me for a week just after New Year. Not that I minded, of course. You know you're always welcome, sweetie."

Harry smiled at Blaise. "Yeah, thanks. I don't know why I let it get to me, really. I mean, he's had lots of girlfriends to stay. It just felt - I dunno, more personal." Harry shrugged. "I can't explain it. But anyway, by the time I went home again, he seemed to be back to normal."

"Well, there's your answer. Something happened between you two on New Year's Eve, and Ron ran away. It's obvious."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Blaise raised an elegantly plucked eyebrow. "No, it really is. So the question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I have no idea. But what if I say something and it turns out that you're wrong? He'd hate me and I couldn't cope with that. Maybe I can gloss over what happened this afternoon and just leave things the way they are, you know?" Harry chewed his bottom lip as one disastrous scenario after another played out in his head.

"Right," Blaise drawled, "because that's working so well for you at the moment."

"I didn't say it was a good plan," Harry said as he picked up his glass, noticed it was empty once more, and with a slight gesture refilled it. Blaise squeaked and Harry turned to see what was wrong. He sighed when he saw the shocked expression on Blaise's face.

"I'm sorry -"

"No! I shouldn't have over-reacted like that. It's just, well, it still spooks me a bit to see you use wandless magic. I didn't mean to make you feel like a..." Blaise took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, before shooting a worried glance at Harry. "You're being careful, aren't you?"

Harry nodded morosely. "Yeah. In fact I barely do magic at all these days. I have to rein myself in so tightly, and I never know who's watching, I'm terrified I'll forget, you know? I'm gawped at everywhere I go, and I know I'm under constant bloody surveillance. If it's not the Ministry it's the Prophet or sodding Witch Weekly. The only places I can relax and be myself any more are here or at the new house."

"I don't know how you can live like that, I really don't. Are you sure Scrimgeour doesn't suspect anything?"

Harry took a sip of his drink. Blaise lit another cigarette and then offered one to Harry. He hesitated for a moment and then took one. Blaise lit it for him, and Harry inhaled the smoke, feeling the slight buzz of the nicotine. He didn't smoke often, but found the occasional one soothing. He stared at the glowing tip for a moment as he considered Blaise's question.

"No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I think he's basically fishing, trying to find something to discredit me." He puffed angrily on his cigarette for a moment before deciding he didn't really want it, and crushed it out. "I've made no secret of the fact that I think the Ministry's a waste of space. And as far as I'm concerned, Scrimgeour's contribution to the war was too little, too late. I've told him I want the Ministry cleaned up, and he's got a lot of work to do on law reform, but he's dragging his feet as much as he can. He knows I'll throw my weight behind an alternative candidate at the next election unless he starts doing something positive, and soon. He'd like nothing more than to be able to turn public opinion against me."

"All the more reason for you to leave Diagon Alley. If he found out about your proclivities, well, he'd have a field day. It'd be plastered all over The Daily Prophet and you'd be publicly vilified. Your leverage would be gone, and it'd probably harm your other interests."

"I know, I know. I'm just reluctant to leave the magical world."

"And Ron."

"Yeah, and Ron."

Blaise smiled at him sadly. "Yeah, I can understand that. I miss the magical world myself, you know. The odd letter from old friends and bits of gossip from wizards who visit the club is the extent of my contact these days. I'm persona non grata until I come to my senses, go home and become a breeder, and that's not happening in this lifetime, trust me." He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette then said, "I do put on a Glamour and wander around Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade sometimes. Not often, just - sometimes." Blaise shook himself. "Well, aren't I the drama queen!" He shot a wide grin at Harry. "So, when are you moving out?"

"Soon, I suppose. Hermione's getting married in a couple of months, and I want to be there. I'd like to spend my birthday with my friends, too." Harry huffed softly. "I don't know why I'm making such a drama out of it. I can always pop back for visits; in fact I'll have to. Have to keep up some sort of public profile if I want to keep some influence there. But they won't understand why I can't stay. I suppose I can always tell Hermione I'm gay and that's why I have to leave. She'd understand that. It might freak her out a bit at first, but she'd be okay with it eventually. But what am I going to tell Ron? I mean, I've told him I want to travel, see some of the world before I settle down, but he'll expect me to come home sooner or later."

In deference to Blaise's already frazzled nerves, Harry walked over to the bar and helped himself to a can of soft drink. Blaise simply rolled his eyes and poured himself a whisky from the bottle he'd left on the coffee table.

"Well, you could always just tell him the truth, and Obliviate him if it all goes horribly wrong. Or... Why don't you just use Legilimency on him? Because that'd be the easiest way of finding out how he feels about you. Or are his shields too strong?"

Harry shook his head. "I taught both him and Hermione Occlumency and Legilimency. We practiced together. He's not as strong as Hermione, and neither is as strong as me. It's just that the three of us, well, we promised we'd never use it on each other uninvited."

"I see. I suppose that rules out Obliviation as well, then?"

Harry hesitated. "I'm selfish enough to want to keep his friendship, if that's all I can have. And I never promised not to modify his memories a little."

Blaise nodded slowly. "I'd probably do the same, which brings us all the way back to your most important piece of unfinished business. You've really got nothing to lose. Worst case scenario, I'm totally wrong, he reacts in disgust and you've well and truly burnt that bridge. But at least you know for sure. A quick Obliviate, you set off on your travels, eventually get over him and get on with life. Best case? I'm right, and you take him with you on an extended honeymoon. He may well take a bit of convincing; you've got a lifetime of prejudice to get past, so I wouldn't dither around if I were you. Personally, I'd just get him drunk and seduce him; much easier to apologise afterwards than try to gain permission beforehand - words to live by, sweetie."

Harry gave Blaise a wry grin. "You are totally shameless. But I don't think that's such a great idea. And I certainly don't think my dithering will be a problem. The highlight of my day was drooling all over my naked best friend and then Apparating here in a panic, in case you've forgotten. Even Ron couldn't have missed that. I'd say that last bridge is already burning."

Blaise patted his hand absently and lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and Harry found himself softly singing along with Patsy Cline about being crazy. He was sure he'd heard that song playing earlier, and had just decided that Blaise had the blasted CD set on perpetual repeat when the tinkling first bars of "The Girl from Ipanema" issuing from the bedroom made him jump. Blaise quickly crushed out his cigarette and shot to his feet. "Damn, what time is it? That'll probably be Martin," he said as he trotted into the bedroom. He came back into the living room a minute or so later still talking into a tiny mobile phone.

"... lost track of the time... Uhuh... No, I'll be there in an hour or so... No, I'm going to send him home... Yes, my thoughts exactly... Love you, too. Bye." He pressed a button on the phone and then said, "That was Martin, and before you say a word, yes, we were talking about you. And no, you're not going into the club tonight. You need to go home, sort out what you're going to do, and then talk to Ron."

"But what if you need me?"

"We'll manage. Tell you what; come to dinner on Tuesday evening. Bring the quotes with you and we can discuss them then. But you need to look after yourself for once, and I need to finish getting ready, so go home."

"Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted. I would have had to go home to get changed anyway," Harry said. He knew Blaise was right; he'd be better off at home. And face it, it wasn't like they needed him. Nobody seemed to need him, he thought morosely. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Blaise suddenly sat down next to him again and slipped an arm around his shoulders.

"It'll all work out, you'll see."

Harry shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just..."

Blaise tilted his head and gave Harry a searching look. "You're doing a lot of good, you know that. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Harry snorted softly. "My money is, you mean. I'm not doing anything."

"Rubbish," Blaise said briskly. "You're just wallowing now, and I'm not going to listen to it. You and your money could have buggered off overseas and left the rest of us to rot. The American Ministry would welcome you with open arms, and they're not the only ones. You could be off somewhere having a ball, living the high life. But you're not. You're here, risking everything to help people who don't even know you're the one doing it." He patted Harry's arm. "So no more wallowing, right? Trust me, there's a hell of a lot of people out there who should be extremely grateful that you decided to hang around."

Harry gave Blaise an apologetic grin. This wasn't the first time he'd heard this particular lecture from his friend. "Sorry. Just feeling a bit pathetic at the moment."

"We really have to do something about your self-esteem, or lack thereof, you know."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, so you keep saying." He got to his feet. "Thanks for - well, thanks."

"You're welcome, you daft sod. Now go home and sort things out with Ron," Blaise said as he stood and followed Harry to the door. Harry was just about to step outside when a sudden wave of doubt assailed him. "What am I going to say to him? What if I screw it up?"

Blaise wrapped his arms around Harry and patted his back. "You need to get him somewhere private. Seduction is the key. Nice, romantic atmosphere, you know? Soft lights, raunchy music, several strong drinks - you're not a complete idiot, I'm sure you can work it out. And how hard can it be to convince a man to let you give him a blowjob? He's in denial, not dead. But you know what? If all else fails, you could just try telling him the truth; that you're not quite as clueless as everyone thinks you are, and that you want him too." Blaise sighed. "You've got my number. Call me anytime, and I mean anytime, if you need to talk, okay? That means charging up your damn phone and turning it on! Now go home." He kissed Harry gently on the forehead, and then ushered him out the front door.

"Good luck, sweetie," he said as Harry Apparated away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry Apparated into what he expected to be his empty flat to find Ron in the living room with Fred and George. There was an open bottle of firewhisky on the coffee table, an empty bottle lying on the floor, and Quidditch commentary blaring from the large wizarding wireless on the sideboard. Cursing silently, Harry plastered a smile on his face as he stepped into the room.

"Hey, Ron, the missus is home!"

"Get fucked, George." Ron muttered.

"Harry, my lad!"

"It's our favourite investor!"

"Our only investor, brother of mine. Give the man a drink!"

Harry could feel a headache coming on. Fred and George's double-act wore on his nerves at the best of times, and tonight he just wasn't in the mood. "What are you two doing here? I thought Ron had a date?"

Ron glanced up, and then quickly dropped his gaze back to the drink in his hand. "I, er, decided not to go in the end. And then these two showed up to listen to the match so, um... Wasn't expecting you back tonight."

"Siddown, mate, you're making the place look untidy," said Fred. Or maybe it was George. Harry had a drink shoved into his hand by one twin while the other steered him to the armchair.

"I hope you're in a better mood than ickle Ronniekins here. We're doing our best to cheer him up."

"Some blonde bird was acting all huffy and stormed out just as we got here, so we're doing our brotherly duty and -"

"Will you two just give it a rest?" Ron snapped angrily. "You said you came here to listen to the match, so bloody well listen to it."

The twins grinned unrepentantly at each other, but did quieten down long enough for Harry to discover that they were listening to a match between Puddlemere United and the Wimbourne Wasps. That explained it, Harry thought. Their Quidditch captain from school, Oliver Wood, was the Keeper for Puddlemere, and the twins never missed a match if they could help it. Harry kept a surreptitious eye on Ron, who was steadily working his way through the bottle of firewhisky, until a sudden roar from the crowd and the excited commentator shouting, 'Another great save by Wood' dragged his attention back to the match. The game was fast-paced and Harry found himself swept up in it, especially when it became obvious that the Snitch had been spotted. The earth-shattering roar told them that it had been caught before the commentator could, and the twins joined in with the cheering when it turned out that the Puddlemere Seeker had been the victor.

The twins raised their glasses in tribute, then one of them, possibly George, said, "What a game! Ollie'll be dead chuffed! That last save of his was brilliant. Wish we could have seen it."

"Have to get Man of the Match," the other twin replied. "They beat the Wasps, can you believe that?"

"Couldn't have done it without Ollie - best Keeper they've ever had."

"Not surprising though. Remember what he was like at school? Great mate, but an utter bastard as captain. Totally obsessed."

"Paid off though, didn't it? We won, and we kept winning."

"Happy days, eh?"

The twins shared a grin. Then Fred - at least Harry thought it was Fred, seemed to suddenly remember that Harry and Ron were still in the room, and said, "We're meeting Ollie and some of the lads at his place."

"Had something on and couldn't get to the match, so we said we'd see them after."

"We've got some serious celebrating planned!"

They smiled widely, then turned expectant looks on their small audience. Harry rolled his eyes and took a large swig from his glass. He just wanted them to leave, and knew better than to encourage them by joining in. Ron, however, took the bait.

"How did you know you'd be celebrating?" he asked after a moment.

The twins gave him a pitying look. "Keep up, Ronniekins. We always go out after a match, win or lose. If they'd lost we'd have been drowning our sorrows."

"I think young Ronald has had one too many."

"You can never have one too many, and I shall prove that tonight, oh brother of mine!"

"A challenge, is it? Well, never say I was one to back out of a challenge. Let's go."

"You two could come with us, if you want," one of the twins said as they once again turned their attention to their bemused audience.

"Do you good. Right pair of wet blankets tonight, you are, what with Ron here sulking over some bird and you looking like you lost a Galleon and found a Knut."

Harry quickly glanced at Ron, and then shook his head. "Thanks, but not tonight. Not feeling the best, so I think I'll just have a quiet night in."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," FredorGeorge said, shaking his head. "It's Saturday night! Party night!" Harry just glared at the irritating twin, who raised his hands in defeat.

"I don't understand them at all, do you, George?" Fred said, shaking his head. "Young, single and famous - if they went out on the town with us, without their bloody glamours on for once, we'd all have anything, and anyone, we bloody wanted."

"Fred," Harry growled, the warning clear in his voice.

"Fair enough, mate, but it's your loss. You're coming though, aren't you, Ron?"

"Not bloody likely. It took me a week to recover from the last binge I went on with you lot."

"Fine. The birds will be all over us anyway, hanging around with famous Quidditch players. You really don't know what you're missing," said Fred with a leer.

"I think he probably does," George said with a grin. "That's why he's not coming." Fred chuckled and the pair of them scrambled to their feet and made their way out into the hallway. Ron pushed himself out of the armchair and somewhat unsteadily followed them out.

"No sense of adventure, some people. That Auror was dead chuffed when she discovered she'd been the one to arrest the famous Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin First Class, for being drunk and disorderly. Made her week, that did. Even asked for your autograph, didn't she? Did you invite her up to see your medal?" The twins were grinning madly.

"Fuck off, George."

"Love you too, Ron. Later, Harry." And with two loud cracks, the twins were gone.

Harry watched from the living room doorway as Ron swayed and then leant against the wall for a moment, his eyes closed as he took several slow, deep breaths. He opened his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall, and then froze when he saw Harry watching him.

"Oh!" Ron's face flushed a brick red. He cleared his throat and swallowed. "Er, all right, mate?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then hesitated. Ron had obviously had a lot to drink, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. He was usually a happy, affectionate drunk - when the twins weren't around to annoy him, of course - which could definitely work in his favour. And if it all went pear shaped, well, a few missing memories wouldn't raise any suspicions after drinking that much firewhisky.

This wasn't a conversation he wanted to risk someone else overhearing, though, so they couldn't stay at the flat. Ron wasn't much good at keeping an eye on the twins at the best of times, so God only knew what little 'surprises' they'd left lying around. After their last visit, Harry had found surveillance wards and booby-trapped items all over the place. Granted, not all of the spying could be blamed on the twins, although the booby traps were definitely down to them. The last thing he wanted to do right now was spend time blocking the wards and defusing the traps. A change of venue was definitely called for. It was time to take Ron home.

"Yeah. Look, have you got your wand on you?" Harry asked in a low voice. Ron's eyes widened, and he nodded warily.

"Good, 'cause we're going out." Harry pulled out his wallet and took out a piece of paper, which he handed to Ron, saying, "Think hard about what this says." Ron gave him a worried look, but dutifully stared, somewhat owlishly, at the words: _Harry Potter lives at 8, Alexander Mews, London._

"Got it?" said Harry as he grabbed hold of Ron's arm. "Hang on, I'm using a Portkey. Marauder's Rest." Harry felt the tug as the emergency Portkey cum family ring on his finger activated and braced himself. He still hated travelling this way, but it was the quickest way to get Ron through the wards on his house.

The Portkey deposited them in a neat hallway, just inside the front door. Harry pushed open the door on the left and ushered Ron in. He flicked a switch and a couple of lamps came on, softly illuminating the room. He loved this room. There was a large bay window to the left of the door that created a cosy nook when the curtains were drawn; he'd put a couple of armchairs there. A comfortable couch was positioned near the central fireplace, angled so you got a good view of the large television he'd splashed out on. At the far end of the room there was the formal dining area and an archway that led into the kitchen.

A gesture had the fire crackling merrily and Harry smiled as he watched Ron, who was still hovering in the doorway looking thoroughly confused. He was opening and closing his mouth, giving him the look of a bewildered goldfish as he seemed to discard one opening gambit for another, until Harry took pity on him.

"Sit down, Ron. I'll get us a drink," Harry said. "Lager okay?"

"What? Yeah, sure, whatever," Ron said as he took a seat on the couch, glancing around the room in confusion.

A large wall unit to the right of the fireplace housed Harry's CD and DVD collection and associated electronics. He scanned his CDs quickly and found one of the compilations the DJ at the club had made for him. He shoved it in the player and quickly adjusted the volume; he liked his music loud when he was on his own, but it was just background noise tonight. Then he headed out into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of lager from the fridge, opened them, and made his way back to Ron.

"Harry, what - I mean why -"

"I need to talk to you," Harry said as he handed Ron his drink and took a seat on the couch. He kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes. "Oh, that's better. Slip your shoes off, mate, make yourself at home."

Harry watched Ron fumble with his shoes, and quietly cast a gentle _Sobrietus_ on him. It wasn't anywhere near strong enough to sober him up, but it would clear his head a bit. After all, he wanted Ron mellow, not unconscious. Ron shuddered and took a deep breath, and then quickly removed his shoes, his movements somewhat more assured. As he stretched his feet towards the fire he said, "Okay. But why couldn't we talk at home?"

"Because what I want to talk to you about is private, and I didn't want to take the chance that today was a Ministry surveillance day. Or let _Witch__Weekly_ get lucky if they were having another shot at finding out what colour underpants I'm wearing or something. And you do remember what we found last time the twins visited, don't you?"

Ron looked blank for a moment, then his face twisted into a grimace. The twins seemed to take a perverse delight in using Ron as an unwitting test subject. "Oh, yeah. Bastards." Ron took a long swallow of his lager. "So, um, where are we?" he asked, gesturing with the bottle to indicate the house. "'s nice place."

"Thanks. Glad you like it. I bought it three months ago. It's completely private. Even Gred and Forge would have trouble getting through my wards. And there's the _Fidelius_, of course."

Ron snorted, then said, "Hang on. You bought a house three months and you didn't tell me?"

Harry shrugged. "It didn't come up."

"It didn't come up?" Ron said incredulously, and Harry waited for Ron to start ranting at him. But instead he seemed to deflate and sink further into the couch. "I don't know why I'm surprised, really. You don't tell me anything any more. You're always off doing stuff. Some nights you don't even come home but you never say where you've been. I hardly ever see you these days and I feel like -" Ron broke off abruptly and stared at the lager bottle, his fingers picking nervously at the label. "I suppose Hermione knows all about it."

"Actually, no. Well, she knows in theory. She was the one who told me I should buy somewhere; good investment, she said. She doesn't know I have, yet."

"Really?" Harry nodded. Ron seemed to perk up a bit at that news. "Oh. I suppose that makes sense. But why'd you buy one in Muggle London?"

"I grew up in the Muggle world, Ron. There are some things that I prefer about it, and it's got definite advantages. Guaranteed privacy, for one. And I've got Muggle as well as magical investments, so it's, well, handy. Just makes it easier, you know?"

"Right. But you're not planning on living here yet, are you?"

"Not right now, no. Actually, that's one of the things I want to talk to you about. You know I told you I fancy going abroad for a bit?" Ron nodded and Harry continued, "Well, I'm planning on leaving soon; probably just after Hermione's wedding."

"That soon? I thought..." Ron took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly. "Fair enough, don't blame you, mate. It'll be good for you to see a bit of the world. How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"Dunno, really. I thought I'd go and see Bill first. I've always wanted to see the pyramids, and then I want to catch up with Charlie and visit the Dragon Reserve. Not sure about after that, though. Maybe a bit of sight-seeing around Europe."

"Sounds brilliant," Ron said wistfully. "You'll probably be away for a while then." He put the lager bottle to his lips, tipped it up and took a long swallow, and Harry found himself staring as his imagination went into overdrive. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and he quickly took a drink himself.

"You'll be home by Christmas, though, won't you? You know Mum expects everyone for Christmas dinner. And you can't abandon me for too long; the twins'll drive me nuts if you're not there."

"I don't know when I'll be back, Ron." Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm his suddenly jangling nerves. "It depends on you, really."

"Me?" Ron shot Harry a startled glance and then returned to staring at the now-empty bottle he was nursing, his fingers still nervously picking at the label. "What's it got to do with me?"

Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Well, things have been a bit odd lately, between you and me, I mean, and you're probably wondering about what happened this afternoon -"

"No, not really," Ron said quickly.

Harry huffed loudly. "Now see, that right there is what I'm talking about. A few months ago, you'd have given me the third degree the minute I walked back into the flat, asking me what the hell I thought I was doing, and didn't I know how dangerous it was to Apparate out like that."

"No, I wouldn't!"

Harry's incredulous snort caused Ron to shoot another glance in his direction before turning his attention back to the bottle he was nursing. They sat in silence until Ron finally huffed, dumped the empty bottle on the coffee table, turned to face Harry and said, "Oh, all right, maybe I would have. But there's no point any more. 's none of my business what you do. You obviously don't want me to know, because when I ask you, you just get all evasive. And now you've bought a house in Muggle London, and you didn't tell me about that either, and you're going away without me so obviously I don't matter any more so there's no point in me saying anything, is there."

Harry was stunned. Ron sounded more like a jealous boyfriend that a flat mate, and he was blinking rapidly, as though trying to hold back tears. Ron never cried - ever. Before he could stop himself, Harry wrapped his arms around Ron and hugged him. Ron froze for a moment, and then he sighed and leant into Harry, resting his head on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," Harry whispered. Ron raised his head and as their eyes met Harry knew it was now or never. He leant in and brushed his lips against Ron's. "You matter more than anyone else in the world." Another soft brush of lips that Harry lingered over. "I've wanted you for so long." Harry pressed his lips to Ron's again, and this time Ron's lips parted, and he suddenly felt Ron's arms around him and Ron was desperately kissing him back. Harry felt Ron's arms tighten around him, as thought trying to pull him even closer, and he moaned appreciatively into his mouth as Harry shifted so that he was straddling Ron's hips, pressing their bodies tightly together. They eventually broke the kiss, and Harry rested his forehead against Ron's to catch his breath before gently nipping at Ron's lips.

Harry had never been one for kissing before, not really. His few attempts with women had been disappointing, to say the least; it had always seemed too personal, too intimate an act to share during the casual encounters that his sex life had consisted of thus far. But Ron had obviously had a lot of practice, and Harry knew he could quickly become addicted to the way Ron's tongue teased and coaxed. He wanted to explore Ron's mouth for hours; he knew he'd never grow tired of the softness of his lips, the slight burn of his stubble against his cheek, and the way he tasted. Harry ran his hands over Ron's chest, stroking, tickling and teasing the warm skin he uncovered as he unbuttoned his shirt, wringing little moans and whimpering sounds from Ron that made Harry ache. An experimental roll of his hips had Ron gasping and thrusting against him, and the handful of still-functioning brain cells Harry had left told him that he should back off. That this was moving way too fast and that Ron was probably too drunk to be thinking clearly. But Ron was licking and sucking Harry's neck and making those little whimpering noises in the back of his throat, and Harry told his conscience to fuck off as he reached down and unbuttoned Ron's jeans. If Ron changed his mind once he'd sobered up, at least Harry would have this much.

"I want you," he whispered as he slipped his hand inside and found bare flesh instead of the expected boxers, and wrapped his hand around the hot, hard length. "Let me taste you."

All too soon, or so it seemed, Ron's fingers tightened in his hair as he thrust jerkily and Harry's mouth was flooded with warm, bitter fluid as Ron came. Harry swallowed rapidly, holding Ron firmly in place until, with a final shudder, he stilled.

Harry peered up at Ron. His eyes were closed, and he was panting harshly. Ignoring his own, insistent arousal, Harry got to his feet, picked up his beer and took a couple of swallows.

Ron's eyes flew open. He was still trying to catch his breath as he stared at Harry for a moment before saying, "I've never... No one's ever done that to me before."

"You're kidding. Never?" Harry said as he handed the bottle to Ron and then slumped onto the couch next to him.

"Well, Herm- er, somebody tried it once, but it was a bit half-hearted, and she wouldn't try again. Don't think she liked it much." Ron took a long swallow of the lager and then dumped the bottle back onto the coffee table. Harry slipped a hand behind Ron's neck and leaned in, and Ron tilted his head and parted his lips as Harry kissed him. "I can taste myself," he said softly against Harry's lips, and then wrapped an arm around Harry and pulled him into a deep kiss. As they broke the kiss once again, Ron yawned widely, and then gave Harry a sheepish grin. "Sorry, 'm a bit sleepy," he mumbled.

Harry smiled as he got to his feet. "Let's go and have a lie down," he said. He took Ron's hand and pulled him off the couch. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and nuzzled his neck as Harry Apparated them to the bedroom.

"Bloody hell, Harry, a bit of warning next time," Ron muttered, clutching at Harry as he stumbled a little; Harry wasn't sure if it was due to the sudden Apparition or the fact that Ron's jeans were still around his ankles.

"Sorry," Harry said unrepentantly, and with a quick wave of his hand he had the curtains drawn and the fire burning brightly, casting flickering shadows in the darkened room. He bundled Ron into bed; he was virtually asleep on his feet and was snoring almost before his head hit the pillow. Harry sighed. He was still painfully hard. He went into the bathroom and brought himself off with a few sharp tugs. Not exactly what he'd hoped for, but still more than he could reasonably have expected this evening, and he did have Ron naked in his bed. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that they'd sorted anything out though, not really, and was uncomfortably aware that what he'd done had been closer to Blaise's 'shoot now and ask questions later' strategy than he cared to admit. But Harry couldn't bring himself to regret it, and when he eventually drifted off to sleep he felt happier than he had for a long time.

--- 

_"Get down!" Grab Ron and haul him down, ducking the spellfire as we scramble into the nearby alleyway, the only cover available. Ron spins around, tries to pull away._

_"Hermione!"_

_She hits the ground, and a trickle of blood runs down her face. She vanishes. Ron starts to run forward. Too dangerous, grab him. Slam him against the alley wall. Got to keep him safe. Make him listen._

_"Ron, stop it! It's the emergency Portkey. She's safe. Poppy's there." Hang on tight and yell reassurances until Ron stops fighting me, starts listening._

_"It's important, Ron. Listen to me. It's just you and me now. You'll have to do the spell. Listen to me!" Shake him now, force his attention back. "Fucking listen! We've got to do it now. Ron!"_

_"Yeah, yeah, right. Sorry, mate, just..."_

_"I know, I know. But we've got to do it now." Running out of time running out of time..._

_"But you practiced with Hermione. She was supposed to do it with you. She was really good at it. I missed sometimes. You know that. That's why I'm supposed to cover you, I can't -"_

_"Yes, you can!" Hands on either side of his face now, I stare into his eyes, willing him to believe. "You can do this, mate. You practiced too. You never missed at the end. Never. I trust you. You can do this."_

_"I can't -"_

_"You have to! This is the only shot we've got." Pull out the potion phial with shaking hands and flip it open. "Right. Three drops of blood each, then rock it gently until it turns silver. You remember the spell?" Ron nods. "Wait till I finish chanting - the second I finish, cast it."_

_The potion's already turning silver. It'll only last five minutes. Everything depends on Ron getting that spell right. It's got to hit Voldemort's flesh the second the chanting ends or it's all for nothing... _

_Peer around the corner. _

_He's there. Of course he's there. Bastard. Standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, laughing as his minions fire hexes wildly up and down the street. People screaming and running for cover as shop windows explode. Where the hell are the Aurors? If this works, God, let this work, Scrimgeour is next on the list, the self-serving, slimy bastard -_

_"Ready?" _

_Crouch in the entrance to the alleyway, Ron's hand on my shoulder. It feels so warm and I want, God, I want... Share a smile and almost tell him, almost say the words because this could be the last time but... he doesn't want to hear them. Not from me. Doesn't matter. If there's anyone listening take care of him, please... "Good luck." Deep breath._

_Now._

_My wand slips into my hand so easily, an extension of me. Ron disillusions us both. We've got no cover, no backup, nothing but the element of surprise. Motion Ron to stay in the cover of the alleyway. He can banish the potion from there, no need to both be out in the open. Move out into the street, away from him, don't make him a target. Our shields should hold but I can't risk him. _

_Now. _

_The words come almost without conscious thought. Chanting - an incantation in a language even Hermione couldn't translate. It's almost like singing, and the power starts to gather. Pure white light pours from the end of my wand and hit its target. It's working! _

_"Potter. Do you know what you're doing?" _

_He's staring right at me. Ignore him. Keep chanting. Must finish, don't stop. Almost done._

_"Oh, very good!"_

_Why isn't he cursing me? He's pointing his wand at me but he hasn't cast anything. Has he? His minions have stopped attacking, too. Why aren't they attacking? They're just standing there like statues, staring blankly as though they're under Imperious or something. What the hell is going on? He's smiling. The bastard's smiling at me. Something's wrong. Really, really wrong. He's glowing and he's laughing and - _

_"Farewell, Potter. Give my regards to your parents."_

_What? There's a flash of light and suddenly bodies are littering the street. Most of them are Death Eaters, but there're a few red robes too. When did the Aurors get here? And what the fuck just happened? Got to get to Ron. We've got to get out of here _now_. I fucking _told_ Hermione it was too risky... We couldn't translate it. We shouldn't have trusted -_

_"Fuck!"_

_Too late too late too late. He's dissolving into light getting brighter and hotter. Pure white spell light hits me. My shield buckles and then shatters. It's him. It's coming from him. Raise my wand, got to recast the shield. Shit, the light... My wand. I can't... Agony. Energy raw power blinding too bright. Screaming and pain burning twisting agony..._

Harry's eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding and his jaw clenched tight against the scream that echoed through his head. Another nightmare. Except it wasn't. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on calming his breathing. He hated waking up like this. A loud snore that he'd recognise anywhere broke into his troubled thoughts and brought a smile to his lips; he turned towards Ron, who was sprawled on his back across most of the bed. And considering that Harry had bought a king-sized bed that was no mean feat. He briefly considered curling up next to Ron and trying to go back to sleep, but his dream had unsettled him and he needed to get up, do something. Harry watched Ron sleep for a moment longer, then with a sigh he slipped out of the warm bed. He put on his dressing gown and slippers, wandered into the bathroom and then, urgent matters attended to, headed downstairs.

He went into the living room first, turned off the lights and opened the curtains. The room looked gloomy in the weak, grey daylight. Harry shivered and headed out the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

He'd suffered from nightmares for years, but they still unsettled him; left him jittery and feeling worn out. He didn't often dream of Diagon Alley, but when he did he found himself dwelling on it for days afterwards. There were too many questions that remained unanswered for Harry's peace of mind. Nothing about that day really made sense, but no one seemed interested in questioning it. Voldemort had been defeated; the Dark Mark had vanished from every marked Death Eater, not simply faded this time. And Harry's scar was gone, which seemed to confirm it.

Harry would have advised caution, and urged Minister Scrimgeour to keep things low key until they'd proven beyond doubt that he was really gone. Not that it would have done any good. There were eyewitness accounts of Voldemort dying in a very spectacular explosion. Scrimgeour would have just laughed at him. And Harry really had nothing more than gut instinct to offer as evidence. But where were Bellatrix Lestrange and Wormtail? Neither of them had been found, and he was pretty certain that other Inner Circle Death Eaters had gone missing as well. But Harry had been unable to do a thing. He'd been in a coma, hidden away in Grimmauld Place.

He'd remained unconscious for almost three months.

For the first few days, the Order had simply expected him to wake up on his own. But he hadn't, and the Ministry had started insisting that Harry be moved to St. Mungo's Hospital. Obviously this couldn't be allowed to happen. So Madam Pomfrey had approached an old family friend of hers, Darius Parminter, a Senior Healer at St. Mungo's, and he'd agreed to help. He'd fended off the Ministry, saying that Harry was suffering from severe magical exhaustion, which was only to be expected after defeating a Dark Lord. Harry's magic simply needed time and complete rest to recover, and there was nothing St. Mungo's could do to hasten the process. In fact, he'd stated loudly in front of as many witnesses as he could that Harry was better off at home, surrounded by family and friends. The Ministry had backed down.

Meanwhile, the Wizarding World had celebrated and Scrimgeour had wasted no time in ensuring that the Ministry shared the credit for the defeat of Voldemort. When Harry had finally woken up, he found that it was all over. Parties and parades had come and gone, and Orders of Merlin had been scattered about like confetti. All the Death Eaters were presumed to have died along with their Master, and that was considered to be the end of the matter. No one wanted to hear Harry's doubts.

Harry sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. He didn't want to think about this now. Ron would probably be waking up soon, and they'd need to talk. He gulped down the rest of his tea and firmly put away the questions his dream had once again raised. Ron would want breakfast, and Harry could do with another cup of tea. Or a strong cup of coffee.

Harry generally didn't like cooking with magic; he found it more enjoyable to do things the Muggle way, despite his years of servitude to the Dursleys. But he didn't want to waste time in the kitchen today; he didn't want Ron waking up alone. Then a sudden thought hit him. "Dobby," he called, and instantly the house-elf appeared in the kitchen.

"Harry Potter! Is you living in your house now?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet, but very soon now. A few months, maybe less, I promise," he said as the smile dropped from the face of his friend. Dobby had appeared in front of Harry almost as soon as he'd bought the house, and demanded that Harry employ him and Winky. Dobby was happy enough at Hogwarts, but even his - friendship, relationship, Harry wasn't sure and he didn't really want to know - with Winky wasn't enough to make her happy, and she desperately wanted to belong to a house and master again. Harry had explained that he wasn't planning on staying in the wizarding world, but Dobby was adamant that he didn't care. After much negotiation, Harry had given in and bound Winky, and started paying Dobby both their wages, as Winky refused to take anything, but told them to stay at Hogwarts until he finally moved into the house.

"Look, I'm probably going to be spending a bit more time here now, so you can move Winky and yourself in whenever you want, okay?" Harry said. The words were hardly out of his mouth before Dobby flung himself at Harry and hugged his legs.

"Winky will be so happy, and Dobby won't have to worry about keeping the Butterbeer locked away ever again!"

"Okay, Dobby. How about you move in during the week? You can always go and work at Hogwarts, or help out Remus or something for a few hours every day if you get bored."

Harry walked over to a door in the corner of the kitchen and opened it. It had been a larder, and Harry had expanded it to the size of a small bedroom. It was filled with bolts of material, planks of wood, small pieces of furniture and boxes of odds and ends; all the things that house-elves could use to set up their den.

"This room, and all this stuff is for you and Winky. There's a pouch of Galleons on the table so you can buy anything else you need. And don't forget, if you need to charge a vault -"

"I use WWW Shareholder No.1 Account, not any Potter account. No one will know about us or the house, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Dobby knows." And Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Dobby did know; knew a lot more, in fact, than Harry thought he did. That account had been set up for Harry by Fred and George, and his share of the profits was paid in regularly. No one, apart from the twins, even knew this account existed, and they had no reason to tell anyone about it.

"Dobby is also knowing that Harry Potter's Wheezy is here. Is you wanting breakfast?"

At Harry's surprised nod, Dobby disappeared with a pop, reappearing a few seconds later with a large tray, absolutely laden with food. He placed the tray on the table, turned around, and with a few gestures had a pot of coffee brewing. Harry recognised the tray as belonging to Hogwarts, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Dobby is going now. We is moving in next week," Dobby said firmly, then with a pop he was gone. Harry shook his head in bemusement. He cast a warming charm over the tray and left it on the kitchen table. Then he poured two mugs of coffee, and carried them back up to the bedroom.

Harry crept into the bedroom and placed a mug of coffee on the bedside table next to Ron. He wrapped his hands around his own mug as he walked over to the window. He opened the curtains and stared at the glowering sky. It was pouring with rain. Harry shivered and glanced at the fire, which flared brightly in response. He stared at the rain a moment longer, then turned around to see Ron propped up on one elbow, watching him.

"Last night. It wasn't a dream, then." Ron's voice, still rough with sleep, gave nothing away. Harry's stomach clenched. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"No."

"Oh." Ron looked away; stared into the fire instead. "I wasn't sure at first. I woke up alone, so I thought maybe I'd just had too much to drink and had one of those really vivid dreams again, but..." His gaze flicked up to Harry's face for a moment, then he turned his attention to his coffee, picked up the mug and took a couple of gulps.

"Do you want it to be a dream?" Harry asked softly. Ron looked up sharply and stared into Harry's eyes for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. Harry let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It wasn't exactly an enthusiastic 'yes', but it could have been a lot worse.

"What do you want, Ron?"

"Well, the bathroom and some breakfast would be a good start," Ron said. There was something brittle about his smile that told Harry not to push, so Harry just smiled at him.

"There's breakfast downstairs in the kitchen. Bathroom's through there. Oh, and there's Hangover Potion in the bathroom cabinet. Just in case," Harry added as he pointed to the bathroom door. He conjured a dressing gown and slippers and put them on the end of the bed.

Ron shot him an odd look, then took another quick slurp of his coffee before sliding out of bed, grabbing the dressing gown and diving into the bathroom. Harry sat on the edge of the bed as he sipped his coffee, waiting for Ron to come out of the bathroom again. He heard the toilet flush, and a moment later the shower being turned on. With a sigh Harry looked around to see what he'd done with Ron's clothes. He spotted them in a heap on the floor where he'd dropped them last night. He picked them up, cast a cleaning charm on them and then folded them in a neat pile on the end of the bed. The shower was still running, so he shouted through the door that he was going down to the kitchen, picked up his coffee and headed downstairs again.

Ten minutes later, Harry was just about to go and see if Ron had got lost when he poked his head around the kitchen door.

"There you are! Wasn't sure where to go, so I followed the smell of food. This stuff came from Hogwarts, didn't it?" Ron asked as he took a seat at the table and began helping himself from the platters of food. "How did you - Bloody hell, not Dobby?" At Harry's nod, Ron continued, "That's one determined house-elf, mate. He never let up, did he? What are you going to do with a house-elf?"

"Two. He made me take Winky as well. I couldn't say no to him. I am such a soft touch," Harry said sheepishly.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Ron said. He had that odd look on his face again, but it seemed to have something wistful about it as he continued filling his plate. They ate in silence. Ron tended to take his food seriously, so that was nothing unusual for him. Talking wasted valuable eating time, after all. There was something off, though, an unspoken question in Ron's eyes that had Harry on edge. By the time Ron finally pushed his plate away, Harry had had enough.

"Whatever it is, just say it, Ron."

Ron stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Where's your wand, mate?"

Harry stared blankly at Ron. What had his wand got to do with anything? Then his eyes widened in horror as he realised what Ron had been getting at. He hadn't used his wand once since they'd arrived at the house. In fact, he had an idea that he'd left it in his bedroom yesterday afternoon when he'd made his panicked flight to Blaise's place. He couldn't believe he'd been that careless.

Ron summoned the coffeepot, ostentatiously using his wand, and topped up both their cups. "You've forgotten a few times at the flat, too," he said conversationally. "I told myself that I was imagining it, or that maybe you'd slipped your wand away too quickly for me to see it, but I didn't really believe that. Hermione said you'd be back to normal well before last Christmas. And no, I haven't said anything to her. But I'd really like to know what's going on."

"You're not the only one, mate," Harry said wryly. He really didn't want to get into this right now. He'd wanted to talk to him about last night, first. That would have to wait, now, while he tried to explain something that he didn't completely understand himself. This would not be a short conversation.

Ron furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't know. Not for certain."

Ron opened his mouth, hesitated, and then said, "I don't understand. Hermione said -"

"I know what she said," Harry interrupted. "And she was wrong."

"But..." Ron shook his head, looking perplexed. "She's never wrong about things like this."

Actually she was, at least twice that Harry knew of. She was wrong about what had happened to him, and she'd been wrong about the ritual, he was almost sure of it. But he simply shook his head and said, "This time she was. Not about everything. At least I don't think so. Just about me."

"Then why didn't you tell her that?" Ron blurted out. There was a look of betrayal on his face that twisted something in Harry's gut. "If you knew she wasn't right, you should have said something. You let her tell everyone -"

"I didn't let her tell anyone a bloody thing," Harry snapped out. "She did that all on her own. I didn't have any say in it. I was in a bloody coma, if you remember."

Ron exhaled explosively and scrubbed a hand over his face. After a moment he looked up and offered Harry an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's just..." He sighed and said, "She didn't have a lot of choice, you know? We didn't tell anyone what we'd be doing, and they were all screaming for explanations, including the Minister. And as she was the only one of us who was still conscious at the time, she was the one they were screaming at. She told me she'd fobbed everyone off as long as she could, but she had to tell them something."

"I know she did. I wasn't having a go at her, Ron," Harry said wearily. Far from it, in fact. He had nothing but admiration for what she'd been able to do. She had to have been worried sick about both of them, and everyone from the Minister of Magic down had been pressuring her for answers. And yet she'd still managed to fend them all off long enough to come up with a sound, watertight theory that gave away as little as possible while still answering all of their questions. He knew he couldn't have done it. No, he'd simply been jealous of the way Ron had leapt to her defence. Which was stupid. Hermione was marrying someone else, and Ron was here with him.

"I know you weren't, mate," Ron said. He picked up his coffee and took a couple of sips, peering at Harry over the rim as he nursed the cup. "But I still don't understand why you didn't say something afterwards. Being right about all this stuff really matters to her, you know?"

"I know it does. But I thought it was better for her to be safe than right, this time."

"Oh." Ron went very still, and then slowly put down his cup. "And that went for me, too, did it?"

Harry sighed as he saw that all-too-familiar stubborn look in Ron's eye. He slumped back in his chair and said, "Hermione's explanation of what happened to me was perfect. It fitted seamlessly with her overall theory. She even produced evidence, expert witnesses and a ten-foot long scroll of calculations that proved she was correct. Nobody was going to argue with that. And if anybody did decide that they wanted to make sure it was the truth, that we weren't covering anything up, you and Hermione would be the first ones they'd go to. You both had to believe that I was back to normal. That she'd been right."

"We wouldn't have said anything!"

"Not voluntarily, no. If I'd known you suspected anything before today, I'd probably have Obliviated you."

"You'd what?"

Seeing the look of shock on Ron's face, Harry quickly continued, "I'm not going to now, obviously. But you've got to realise how serious this is, Ron. I was going to tell you eventually. I'll have to add an extra layer of protection to your mind, though, so that if anyone tries to question you under Veritaserum, you simply won't remember who I am."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, before saying, "That's a bit drastic, isn't it?"

"The block only lasts until the potion wears off or you're given the antidote. I don't want to mess about with your memories, Ron. It's simpler to just lock them away under certain conditions."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "You've done this before, haven't you," he stated.

Harry nodded. He had a highly placed spy in the Ministry; one who was still voluntarily under cover there, and he'd used the technique on him. It wasn't subtle. If he was questioned and the protection kicked in his cover would be blown. But then the mere fact that he'd been questioned about Harry under Veritaserum would mean that his usefulness was over, anyway.

Ron took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Okay, do it," he said.

"Look into my eyes and lower your shields," Harry said. It was the work of a moment to place the block in his mind, and Ron blinked rapidly as Harry withdrew from his mind.

"That was quick. Are you sure you did it right? I didn't feel a thing."

Harry chuckled. "You let me in. That sort of thing only hurts if you resist."

"Oh, right. So, you going to tell me?"

Harry rested an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. He gazed at Ron steadily while he gathered his thoughts. "I'm not sure where to start. It's a long story."

"Better start at the beginning, then."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I remember floating. It was warm, and dark, and quiet. Peaceful, you know? Anyway, I started hearing things. Voices. I didn't move at all at first. I just lay there, trying to remember what had happened. For some reason I thought I was back in the Hospital Wing. I think one of the voices must have been Poppy Pomfrey. I cracked my eyes open a little, and everything was blurry and far too bright. I fumbled about on the bedside cabinet, and suddenly I heard Hermione's voice. So I finally opened my eyes again, and Hermione was standing there, staring at me. I asked her to pass me my glasses and my wand, and she started crying. She told me I'd had my eyes fixed on my 18th birthday, that my wand had been destroyed, and that I'd been in a coma for three months. She said she had to get Poppy, but I grabbed her hand to stop her."

Ron shuddered. "Don't blame you. Downright vicious that woman is."

"Yeah. I wasn't in any hurry for the poking and prodding to start. I told Hermione I needed to know what had happened. And that I needed to know before anyone else knew I was awake and started asking awkward questions. She insisted on tipping several disgusting potions down my throat before she'd say a word, and by the time I'd drunk the last one I'd remembered pretty much everything. Anyway, she finally sat on the edge of the bed and starting talking. The first thing she told me was what had happened to you."

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "It was nothing."

"You nearly died, Ron! Massive head injuries, she said, and it was all my fault." At Ron's quelling glare, Harry just shook his head and sighed. "Anyway, then she told me about my arrival at the Portkey point."

"Wish I'd been awake for that," Ron said with a snigger. "Hermione said you were floating in the middle of the entrance hall, glowing like one of those Muggle tube-light thingies, and everything was flying around and exploding. Everyone was diving for cover. It was pretty spectacular by all accounts."

Terrifying was the word Hermione had used. No one had been able to get anywhere near him. They'd had to evacuate the hall and wait until the maelstrom finally died down and he'd gently floated to the floor, some twelve hours later. It had certainly explained the wary, fearful glances he'd noticed some people cast his way.

"She told me her theory about Voldemort draining all his Death Eaters through the Dark Mark in a bid to hang on to his soul. She said that would explain the massive amount of power that was released when he disintegrated. And that it also accounted for all the dead Death Eaters they'd found. While she was talking to me, my throat felt dry and I really wanted a nice, cold glass of water. The next thing I know one just... appeared, in my hand. It had ice cubes floating in it, and a slice of lemon, and a red and gold striped bendy straw. We both just stared at it, and then she looked at me as though I was..." Harry shook his head. "It scared her, Ron. I scared her. Shook me up a bit too, to be honest. And that's when she started telling me what she thought had happened to me."

Two glasses of water appeared on the table, complete with ice cubes, lemon slices and bendy straws. Ron stared at the glasses for a moment and then burst out laughing. Harry smiled at him, picked up his glass and took a sip of water.

"As I listened to her explanation, I realised that nobody had actually seen what had happened between me and Voldemort."

Ron looked taken aback. "What? There were plenty of people who saw it. I was watching you myself before he blew up."

"What did you see?"

Ron tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling for a moment, obviously casting his mind back. "I couldn't see you at first, obviously, because you were Disillusioned, but once you started chanting you gradually became visible again. You were standing a few feet away from him. You had your wands pointed at each other, but he just stood there. I thought that the chanting had stunned him or something. Then I cast my bit of the ritual and there was a flash of light, and then... He was glowing. Actually, you were both glowing. It was too bright to see properly..." Ron's brow furrowed as he looked at Harry. "It was too bright to see exactly what happened. You're right."

"Hermione's theory was that I caught the brunt of the magical explosion, but instead of killing me the magic somehow recognised my connection to Voldemort and protected me instead, wrapping itself around me like a shield. She said I must have somehow absorbed some of this magic, probably because of the connection, but that it was leaking away and that's what caused my little wandless 'accident'." Harry gave a humourless chuckle. "I felt like a puppy who'd just pissed on the carpet. I half expected her to hit me on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper."

Ron snorted and slapped his hand across his mouth. He looked torn between laughter and indignation.

Harry shook his head. "It's okay, you can laugh. She did when I told her. And then she apologised." He picked up his glass and drank some water while Ron sniggered. He continued, "She kept assuring me that I had nothing to worry about; that the excess raw magic was already almost gone, and that I wouldn't have woken up if that hadn't been the case."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's what she told us. You stopped glowing after a few days, and things stopped blowing up around you a week or so after that. Poppy couldn't scan you to check your magic levels, though, because spells just bounced off you, so Hermione came up with the idea of measuring the level of magic in your room. It dropped a little bit every day. After a few weeks, she said she had enough information to work out when you'd be back to normal. When she said it'd take about nine months, everyone was horrified. We all thought you'd be unconscious that long, you see. But she said it didn't work that way. She said it was like a big tub of water. You put a hole in the side, and a lot of water gushes out to start with, but then it slows to a trickle, getting slower and slower till it eventually stops. She reckoned that all the glowing and floating and blowing stuff up was the gush, and that once your magic loss slowed to a trickle, you'd probably wake up. And you did."

"You've got to hand it her," Harry said. "It's a brilliant theory."

"But..."

Harry took a deep breath. "It didn't happen that way. When Voldemort started glowing he... There was this light coming from his wand. I don't know what it was, but it smashed straight through my shields. I raised my wand and..." _burning pain agony _Harry exhaled shakily at the memory. "It was like molten lava was being forced up through my wand into me. I could feel it burning its way up my arm and then there was this pressure in my chest; it grew worse and worse until I could hardly breathe. And then suddenly it felt like something burst inside, and I swear it felt like fire was flooding right through me. I thought I was dying, Ron. I wanted to die. It was worse that Cruciatus, worse than anything I've ever felt before. Then my wand exploded and there was this blinding light, and then it all just faded away."

Ron gaped at him. "Bloody hell."

"There's more. According to Hermione, the witnesses saw a final bright flash, and then they saw me standing there, alone, before the Portkey whisked me away to Grimmauld Place. If anyone had really thought about it, they'd have realised that the explosion couldn't have hit me. If it had, I'd have been blasted halfway down Diagon Alley. I don't think the blast of power came from Voldemort at all. He just dissolved; I watched him. I think it came from me."

"Shit!" Ron looked as pale as Harry felt. "So that means... What the fuck does that mean?"

Harry shrugged. "Somehow I took all that power, absorbed as much as I could, and expelled the rest in one burst. It's the only thing I can come up with that fits."

Ron was simply gaping now, so Harry decided to just keep talking.

"After a couple of days of my little 'accidents', Hermione was a nervous wreck and insisted I go and get a replacement wand. She said it'd help settle my magic down. So Remus came with me to see Ollivander. The first wand I tried caught fire. The second one exploded. Fortunately it didn't do any real damage." Harry held out his right hand. It had been badly burnt when his original wand exploded, and the Mediwitch had done wonders healing it, considering she could only use salves and potions on him. It looked perfectly normal, apart from a shiny patch on the palm, where the skin had been burnt completely away and had to be regrown.

"It was mainly just splinters, and Ollivander summoned them out and healed me in a few seconds. Said he'd had a bit of practice. Then he went out the back and brought out a wand that looked just like my old one. He told me to levitate a chair with it. It hit the ceiling so hard it shattered, but the wand didn't catch fire or explode, so I thought he'd found the right one. He gave me an odd look, then told Remus to go and get a cup of tea while he took me into his workroom to make some adjustments to the wand. He said it might take a while, so Remus didn't need to hurry back.

"The minute we got into the room, he shut and warded the door then he asked me point blank how long I'd been doing wandless magic. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but he shook his head and said, 'The truth, if you please, Mr. Potter.' Remus had cast the strongest Glamour he could on me, but Ollivander saw straight through it. I ended up telling him everything I knew, and what I suspected, and he nodded along as though I was just confirming his suspicions. I asked how he knew, and he told me that the 'wand' I'd successfully used was still waiting for a core. It shouldn't have worked. It was nothing but a nicely carved stick. Then he said we had a lot to do and not much time to do it in if we were going to make sure the Ministry didn't find out about me.

"He made me practice casting simple spells with my new 'wand'. After five or ten minutes I was a bit better at controlling how much power I used, though I was still pretty erratic. He told me to keep practicing, as I wouldn't stop leaking magic until I had full control. But before I did that, I needed to shield myself, so if anyone scanned me, my magic levels would register as normal. When Remus came back, Ollivander told him that he'd managed to find another holly and phoenix feather wand that seemed to suit me, and that my magic would be a bit erratic for a while, but that he confidently expected it to settle down in no time at all. And I knew that's what he'd be telling the Ministry when they asked him about me."

Harry's throat felt dry after talking so much. He picked up his glass and took a long drink. As he put the glass down again, he realised that Ron was looking more than a bit shell-shocked.

"Ron? Are you -"

"Your wand isn't real?" Ron said sharply. Harry shook his head. "But that means..." Ron paused, shook his head, opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, and then exhaled heavily. He obviously needed time to think through what he'd just heard. Harry glanced at the clock, and was surprised to see that it was already 11 a.m.

"Look, I really need a shower," Harry said as he got to his feet. "Why don't you make us a cup of tea or something. You could take it through into the living room, be a bit more comfortable. I won't be long."

Ron simply nodded absently.

Harry went into the living room and turned on the radio for Ron before trudging up the stairs. Ron wouldn't have taken kindly to being fobbed off, so he'd really had no choice but to tell him everything. He just wished the timing had been better. And he hoped that Ron wouldn't have too many questions after he'd had some time to think about everything. They still had last night to discuss.

--- 

When Harry came downstairs again, he found Ron sitting on the couch. The fire was burning merrily, making the room feel warm and cosy. He sat next to Ron and picked up his tea, wrapping his hands around the mug. Ron said, "I put a warming charm on it for you. Didn't know how long you'd be."

"Thanks." Harry took a sip of his tea, then said, "So. Um, is there anything else you want to know?"

"Actually, yeah, there is. You've really been using a stick instead of a wand all this time?" At Harry's hesitant nod he continued, "So what happens if you need a wand for something?"

Harry sighed. "Ron, I don't need a wand. For anything."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. He was chewing on his lip, obviously still thinking things through, so Harry sat quietly waiting for the next question.

"So is this permanent? I mean, will you ever go back to normal?"

"I've got no idea. But I think this is normal for me, now."

"Just how powerful you are, then? I mean, are you the same as you used to be, except you do it all without a wand now, or is it more..." Ron made a vague gesture with his hands.

For a fleeting moment Harry considered lying to Ron, but quickly dismissed the thought. Ron hadn't run screaming yet, and Harry really wanted him to know the whole truth. He took a deep breath and, studiously staring into the fire, said, "I really don't know. I haven't had any problems so far, but that doesn't mean that I won't come across something one day that I can't do."

"You warded this house on your own, Harry. And you cast the Fidelius charm. On your own. Wandlessly."

Harry nodded, then stilled, realising too late that Ron had simply been guessing about the warding. "Shit," he muttered.

Ron shook his head, a grin on his face. "Thought so. Look, I know you, mate. And I know how you think. I'll bet you've taken yourself off somewhere far, far from the Ministry, and tried out every spell you could think of. I'm thinking a deserted island, maybe?"

"Australia. Nothing but desert in the middle. Nobody around for hundreds of miles."

"That'd do it. Tell me honestly, Harry. Was there anything you couldn't do?"

Harry slowly shook his head.

"That's what I thought. Explains why you're so paranoid about the Ministry finding out. I would be too, in your shoes. No wonder you want to go on a long holiday."

"You remember me telling you that?"

Ron looked suddenly wary. "I hadn't had that much to drink, not really," he said. He immediately grabbed his cup and stood up. "Fancy another one?"

"I haven't finished this one yet," Harry said as Ron headed out to the kitchen. Harry sighed. There was no way he was going to allow Ron to avoid talking about this. He gave Ron a minute or two, and when he hadn't reappeared Harry raised his voice and called out, "There's a packet of biscuits in the cupboard. Grab it, would you?"

A moment later Ron slowly made his way back to the couch. He put the packet of biscuits on the coffee table and sat down again. Harry opened the packet and took a biscuit, then said, "Help yourself. You know, I'm really looking forward to getting away. I'm sick of looking over my shoulder all the time, wondering who's watching. Worried that I'll let something slip at the wrong time."

"Yeah, I can see that, and I do understand." Ron said. Harry watched as he dunked a biscuit and stuffed the whole soggy mess into his mouth. He washed it down with a mouthful of tea, then said, "You'll, er, you will be coming back though, won't you? I mean, you're my best mate. I'll miss you."

"Actually... I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

"What?" Ron quickly turned to face Harry. "Why? I mean, I thought..." Ron fell silent, a look of confusion on his face, and he was staring at Harry as though he'd suggested they voluntarily submit themselves to some of the twins' more exotic experiments.

"Well, I thought you might like to see Bill and Charlie, and have a bit of a holiday. With me," Harry said slowly. He couldn't understand why Ron seemed so confused. It was a perfectly simple question, after all. Wasn't it?

"You want me to come with you?" Ron said slowly.

"Yes!" Harry snapped out in exasperation. "Bloody hell, Ron, it's not that hard to understand, is it? I really need to go away for a while, but I don't want to leave you because I'm in love with you. And after last night, well, I'm hoping that we can be together. So I want you to come with me."

"You're in love with me?" Ron stared at him in shock, and then slowly shook his head. "But that's not... I don't know what to say. It's just... I've spent the past six months telling myself that I just needed to find the right girl, and then everything would be okay. That I couldn't possibly be that sort of disgusting pervert. That I didn't want my best friend like...that. You were never supposed to find out. I thought that last night you were just being..."

"Just being what?"

"We'd both had a lot to drink, and I thought you'd found out somehow and, well, you can't stop yourself from helping people and..." Ron's voice trailed off and he worried his bottom lip as he slowly shook his head. Harry couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

"Look, Ron. Last night had nothing to do with me feeling sorry for you, if that's what you're thinking. I was trying to show you how I feel about you. I know that being gay isn't exactly going to win anybody any popularity contests in Witch Weekly. So you'll understand why I haven't advertised the fact. But I'm definitely gay, and after last night I think we can safely say you're not completely straight, at the very least." Ron looked totally confused, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that he had no idea what he was talking about. So he said, "Do you know what I mean by gay and straight?" Ron shook his head. "Gay is the Muggle word for homosexual people. Straight is the word they use for heterosexual people."

"Oh." Ron's brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes widened and he said, "You - you're homosexual?"

"Well, yeah."

"Fuck."

Harry snorted softly. "I wouldn't have thought it was that much of a surprise, mate. I sucked you off last night. That should have given you a clue."

"Jesus, Harry!" Ron's face flushed bright red as he winced.

"Ron, I want you. And I know you want me. You've done everything short of actually telling me for months now. It's just you and me. I have to leave. Come with me."

"It's not that simple, Harry."

"Yes, it is."

"No, no, it's not. Just listen, will you? I grew up knowing that this is wrong. My family is brilliant, and I love them; and every single one of them will hate me for this. I'm supposed to get married and have kids. I'm supposed to be normal, not -" Ron broke off with a gasp, his distress clearly evident in the stiff way he held himself.

"You don't want this."

"Nobody in their right fucking mind wants this," Ron said. His voice sounded muffled, as though he'd had to force the words out. Harry sat in stunned silence for a moment. He needed a drink. As the thought crossed his mind, two glasses of firewhisky appeared on the coffee table. He picked one up and took a gulp, before picking up the other glass and wordlessly offering it to Ron.

He should have known. He'd hoped that once, just once, he'd actually get what he wanted but really, when did that ever happen? He had to be realistic. Ron had drunk far too much and acted on a secret desire, and obviously regretted it now. He could understand that. Ron loved his family, and he couldn't blame him for not wanting to risk that.

Harry took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then said as calmly as he could manage, "Okay. I understand. Look, Ron, I can - When I asked you if you wanted this to be a dream, I was perfectly serious. I can make it so that you won't remember what happened last night. I'll move out of the flat, of course, stay out of your way. Once I'm gone you'll be able to get on with your life, forget that we - that..." He couldn't go on. His chest felt tight and he couldn't force the words out.

Ron had gone very still.

"You'd do that?"

"Yes."

"You... You said you loved me."

"Yeah, I do."

Ron raised his head and looked Harry in the eye. "Then why?"

"Because you don't want this," Harry said wearily. "Because you're the most important thing in the world to me and I would do anything to make you happy."

Ron gave a shaky laugh. "You really are a self-sacrificing prat, aren't you? You can't fix everything, Harry. Life doesn't work that way. Some things are worth putting up with shit for." He raised the whisky to his lips and finished it in one swallow, placing the empty glass on the table with a clatter that sounded deafening in the quiet room. "I don't want to feel this way about you. But the thing is, I do, and I have for a while now. And I'm going to have to deal with that, no matter how much it scares me. Because last night, when we were together... For the first time in - fuck knows how long - it felt right. I felt right, because I was with you."

Harry slumped back and laughed softly. He felt like crying with relief, actually. But he took a fortifying breath and sat up again. He reached out and took Ron's hand, twining their fingers together. Ron looked up and Harry stared into his eyes, then slowly leant towards him. They kissed for a moment, a mere press of lips. "Prat," Ron whispered shakily against his lips.

Harry pulled back slightly. "Yeah, but I'm your prat."

Ron huffed softly and shook his head. "That'll take a bit of getting used to."

"There's no rush. We'll take things as slow as you want. We've got all the time in the world, mate."

"Yeah," Ron said with a smile. The whole room seemed suddenly brighter. Harry found himself musing on how Ron's smile lit the place up when he realised that it was actually sunshine flooding the room. Soppy git, he mentally chided himself.

"It's finally stopped raining," Ron said. "About bloody time."

"Yeah. Looks nice out, now. Tell you what, how about going out somewhere for lunch? There's this really great pub just -"

"Lunch!" Ron sat bolt upright. "It's Sunday, isn't it. Shit! I just remembered. Fred and George have invited themselves over for lunch. They've got a new line they've just finished testing. Elegance Eclairs, they're called, aimed at teenage girls. Gives them new hair dos or something. Anyway, the point is they're bringing a couple of crate-loads to the shop today. I told them they could bloody well unpack them themselves, and they said they would if we fed them. I didn't put them off because I thought we'd just be hanging around doing nothing, you know? They'll be at the flat any minute now, expecting us to be there."

Ron looked vaguely distressed as he quickly stood up, and Harry suppressed a sigh. Fred and George were a bit much to take at the best of times. After last night, and this morning's revelations, Ron needed peace and quiet; time to think and sort himself out. Not an afternoon with the duo from hell.

"Don't they have any bloody food at their place?" Harry grumbled as he summoned his shoes and jammed his feet into them. "We'd better get back then, I suppose. Dobby!" The elf appeared with a pop. "We have to leave. Can you -" Harry gestured around the room.

"Dobby will take care of everything, Harry Potter," Dobby said happily.

Ron trailed Harry out into the hallway. Harry turned to Ron and slipped an arm around his waist. "It'll be okay," he said with a reassuring smile. Ron smiled back, somewhat tentatively, and Harry tightened his hold. "I really wanted to take you somewhere nice for lunch. Just the two of us, you know?"

"Yeah, that would have been nice. Maybe we could do it next Sunday? It's too difficult to get away from the shop when it's open."

Harry rapidly reviewed his commitments for the weekend, then said, "Yeah, that sounds good. Look, you doing anything on Friday night?" Ron shook his head. "Great. I can key you into the house wards, and we can have dinner and talk. I'm sure Dobby'll be happy to cook for us, or something."

"I'd like that," Ron said.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Harry leant in, slowly, giving Ron plenty of warning, and Ron closed the rest of the distance. Their kiss was again only a simple, chaste press of lips, but Harry recognised that it was going to take Ron some time to get comfortable with the reality of their budding relationship.

"I'll have to Apparate us back to the flat from here; you won't get past the wards, otherwise," Harry said, and a moment later they were back in the Diagon Alley flat.

The instant they arrived, Ron shot into the living room, muttering something about opening the Floo. Harry sighed as he headed towards the kitchen, already mentally rummaging through the cupboards to see what he could feed the twins.

Rat poison was looking good.

--- 

The unedited version can be found on my livejournal. Details in my profile.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ron stepped out of the Floo into the living room at the Burrow and brushed the soot off his robes. He could hear his mother in the kitchen; the occasional clang of a pan along with the comforting aroma of something baking in the oven told him that she was getting dinner ready. But apart from that the house was quiet. It seemed odd, somehow. His memories of home were always loud, busy, full of people and life and love. He wondered if his mother missed that, or whether she was glad of the peace and quiet now that Ginny was the only one of her brood still living there.

He slowly looked around, his gaze resting finally on the mantelpiece crammed with photographs. He smiled as younger versions of his family waved madly at him from the assorted frames. His attention was caught by a photograph of the three of them; himself, Harry and Hermione. He remembered it being taken, the morning of the last battle. A few days earlier, they'd received what was to be the final message from their spy, warning of the impending attack on Diagon Alley, and adding the surprising news that Voldemort himself was going to be there. Surprising, because Voldemort hadn't left his heavily protected stronghold in more than two years. It was what they'd been waiting for; a chance to get close enough to perform the ritual, and to finally end the war.

So they had returned to the Burrow, for what each of them knew might be the last time. Harry had called a meeting of senior Order members and calmly informed them of the impending attack, and the fact that Voldemort himself would be leading it. Then he'd given them their orders: protect innocent bystanders, get Grimmauld Place ready for casualties, and stay away from Voldemort. He was their job, he'd said, and they were ready. No one argued with him, and Ron remembered his mum crying quietly while his dad held her. They all somehow knew that this would be the final battle of the war.

Ron studied the photograph. There were no happy, smiling faces here. No friendly waving and cheerful grins. The three looked far older than their twenty-one years, weary but determined expressions on their faces. They were wearing their battle robes, Harry in the centre, Ron and Hermione flanking him. As he watched, photo-Hermione turned to photo-Ron and smiled at him, and photo-Ron winked back. But photo-Harry simply stared grimly out of the photograph, unmoving. Ron had the sudden, strange urge to comfort him. He reached out and gently brushed his finger against photo-Harry's cheek, and as he did so, photo-Harry's expression softened, and he smiled.

A yearning filled Ron as he gently placed the photograph back on the mantelpiece. He missed Harry. He hadn't seen much of him in the last few days, and when he was around it was terribly awkward; full of stilted, careful conversations, aborted touches and heated looks. He'd never realised how little true privacy they actually had until now. Friends and family dropped in at all hours of the day and night, and reporters and the Ministry were a constant irritant. He couldn't wait until they could escape their all-too-public flat for the privacy of Harry's house tomorrow night.

He pushed open the kitchen door and said, "Hello, Mum."

"Oh, hello, love, I didn't hear the Floo. How are you? And how's Harry?" Molly said brightly as she wiped her hands on a tea towel before giving Ron a quick hug.

"We're both fine. He's off somewhere, and I was at a bit of a loose end, so I thought I'd drop 'round."

"It's always nice to see you, dear. Do you want to stay for dinner? There's plenty, and it's almost ready."

"Thanks, Mum, that'd be great. Ginny around?"

"She's up in her room, studying, but I'm sure she won't mind a bit of a break. Here," Molly summoned two bottles of Butterbeer. "Take her up a drink. I'm going to get on. Your father does like his dinner ready when he gets home."

"Okay," Ron said as he headed to the stairway. A feeling of nostalgia swept over him as he climbed the stairs. Things had been so much easier when he'd been a little kid, teasing Ginny and avoiding the twins and their jokes. He could tell Mum anything, and she always made things better. He sighed, and tapped on Ginny's door. Hearing a muffled shout, Ron poked his head around the door. "Just me. Thought I'd pop in and see my favourite sister."

Ginny put down her quill, rubbed her hands over her face tiredly, and then grinned at Ron. "I'm your only sister, you prat. What do you want?"

Ron placed a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded! Can't I just come and visit without an ulterior motive?"

"No. But as you're here you might as well come in. I think my brain's about to explode, so any excuse for a break is a good one. Ooh, thanks, just what I need," she added as Ron handed her one of the Butterbeers. Ron sat on the bed and Ginny swivelled around in her chair to face him. "So, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Why should anything be wrong?"

Ginny simply raised an eyebrow, and Ron sighed. "Nothing's wrong, I promise. I just wanted to ask your opinion about something."

"Okay, I'm all ears."

"Well, Harry's been talking about going abroad for a while and -"

"Yeah, I know. Sounds like a good idea to me."

Ron shot her a confused look and said, "I didn't know he'd mentioned it to you."

"He didn't. Hannah said that Lavender had told her that Eloise had overheard Harry talking to some friend of Luna's at some Ministry thing of Hermione's a while ago. Anyway, this girl was talking about visiting some relatives abroad, and Harry apparently said that he was going to travel a bit, too, and that he wanted to catch up with some of his best friend's brothers, because he hadn't seen them for a long time. Well, it was obvious that he was talking about Bill and Charlie, because Hermione doesn't have any brothers - or sisters, come to that."

Ron blinked slowly as he stared at his sister. How the hell she kept all that stuff straight in her head was beyond him. She had an intelligence network that the Unspeakables would kill for, which came in very useful at times. "Er, right," he said, because Ginny was looking at him as though she expected some sort of comment.

"Yeah. Most people, and by that I mean people that actually know him rather than just read about him in _Witch Weekly_, think it's a good idea. He's pretty much a hermit, these days. Not that I blame him. He's always hated all the attention and publicity. Poor sod can barely show his face in public without being stared at and photographed and stuff. Do him good to go somewhere where he can just be a normal person." She paused for a moment, taking a drink of her Butterbeer before saying, "But anyway, I'm wandering off the point here. You were saying?"

There was that expectant look again, and it suddenly dawned on Ron that Ginny saw him as an ideal source of gossip. Well, she was out of luck today.

"Right. So, Harry's planning on leaving just after Hermione's wedding. And he's, um, well, he's asked me to go with him."

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, of course. And?"

"Have you got a Time-Turner in here or something? Because you seem to know more about it than I do. Have we already had this conversation and you're just messing with my head?"

Ginny burst out laughing, then reached over and patted Ron's knee. "Honestly, Ron, it's obvious. Of course you're going with him. I mean, if Hermione wasn't getting married I expect she'd be going, too. But she seems pretty settled at the Ministry, so maybe not, although..." Ginny's voice trailed off and her eyes suddenly widened. "Tell me you two aren't going on her honeymoon with her!"

"What! Of course not. Bloody hell, Gin -"

"There's no 'of course' about it, Ron. You three have lived in each other's pockets since you were eleven years old. People used to joke that she'd tossed a coin to decide which one of you she'd ma-" Ginny suddenly snapped her mouth shut and gave Ron a mortified look. "Oh God, Ron, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean -"

"Ginny!" Ron said sharply, stemming the babbled apology. "It's fine. I'm really happy for her. Richard's a great bloke and Hermione is one of my best friends, okay? I'm not trying to be brave or nursing a broken heart, I promise you. And we're definitely not going anywhere near Paris. She'd kill us."

"Ooh, is that where she's going for her honeymoon? I've been trying to find out for ages but she's been keeping it secret." Ginny looked like a cat that'd just inherited a dairy farm, and Ron cursed himself. He should have known better than to try to discreetly sound Ginny out about anything. She had a way of worming information out of the most tight-lipped of people. He privately thought she was wasted as a Healer. She should have been a spy. Or a journalist, he added sourly.

"You can't tell anyone. If she finds out I told you my life won't be worth living."

"Oh, relax," Ginny said, waving a hand at him. "I never reveal my sources."

Ron sighed and closed his eyes for a moment as he massaged the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Are you all right? I've got a potion here somewhere..."

Ron looked up to see Ginny rummaging around in a small potions case. He knew she was only trying to help. But his family's constant watchful concern made him feel like cheerfully strangling the lot of them.

"Stop, Gin, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all. It's not a headache."

Ginny cast a professionally assessing gaze over Ron for a moment, and then nodded and sat down again. She took a sip of her Butterbeer and said, "So, what did you want to ask me?"

"I've forgotten," Ron said dryly.

"Ha, ha. No, seriously, Ron."

Ron sighed again. "I wanted to ask what you thought about me going with Harry. I wasn't sure if I should."

Ginny stared at him for a moment, her brow furrowed. "Why on earth not? You deserve to have a holiday and enjoy yourself just as much as Harry does."

Ron shook his head. "No, it's not that, it's -"

"Have the twins said something?" Ginny interrupted abruptly. "Don't pay any attention. You know they're taking advantage of you. I mean, you look after all their finances and business planning, and run the Diagon Alley shop all on your own -"

"Harry helps out when I'm busy," Ron protested quickly.

"Yeah, I know, but you're the one who's responsible for it all. It's a lot of work. Mum really got stuck into them the other day. Said you had to be careful about -" Ginny stopped suddenly, then continued, "about how hard you work."

"I really am okay," Ron said wearily.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know you hate us fussing, but at least I've got an excuse. Trainee Healer, here. Everybody's a potential victim. I mean patient."

Ron snorted as Ginny giggled.

"I must admit, getting away from Fred and George sounds good," Ron said wistfully.

"I'm surprised you haven't left already. I'd have hexed them ages ago if I were you."

"You hex them enough for both of us."

She grinned. "They bloody well deserve it! Trying out their latest inventions on me. They'll think twice before they try that again. Never cross a Healer - we know a lot of charms that have very embarrassing consequences for the unwary." She shook her head and took a drink from the bottle in her hand. "Right pair of prats they are, at times."

Ron could only nod in agreement. The twins had never admitted exactly what it was that Ginny had hexed them with after they'd tricked her into wearing a prototype of their new 'Knaughty Knickers' range, but he'd never seen them grovel to anyone the way they'd grovelled to her.

"Seriously, though," Ginny continued, "I know Lee Jordan's been angling for a job with them, and he'd take over the shop in a heartbeat. I mean, we all know you were only running the place until you sorted yourself out. After all, it's only been eighteen months since the War ended and... Anyway, you and Harry deserve to go and have a bloody good time abroad for a few months, and when you come home again, well, there's time enough to decide what you want to do then."

Ron couldn't help feeling a little guilty at Ginny's earnest expression as she reassured him about going away with Harry. He knew she worried about him; the whole family worried about him ever since he'd been injured. His mum had been at Grimmauld Place when he'd arrived by emergency Portkey, covered in blood with his skull cracked open, and had watched helplessly as the Mediwitch battled to save Ron's life. Poppy had put him in a healing coma once he was stabilised, telling Molly that he should be well enough after a week or so to be brought out of it, provided he took things very easy and rested. Head injuries were tricky things, she'd said. But Ron had seemed fine when Poppy finally woke him up. He was a little tired, but there seemed to be nothing to worry about. Until the odd behaviour started.

Ron would find himself in Harry's room, sometimes sitting on the bed, sometimes lying down with him. The trouble was, he never remembered going in there. Hermione told him that he'd suddenly complain of a headache, and then he'd start mumbling about Harry needing him. He'd get extremely distressed and even violent if anyone tried to stop him, and Hermione was the only person who could calm him down and talk to him. But even she couldn't stop him going to Harry. Once he was in the room he'd touch Harry, either his hand or his arm, and then he'd instantly fall asleep, waking up an hour or so later with no memory of what had happened.

Everyone had been quick to reassure him that it was probably just a stress thing, only to be expected. That he'd probably seen Harry collapse just before he'd been injured himself, and his subconscious just needed reminding that his best mate was okay. And as the episodes had gradually tapered off, finally stopping just before Harry came out of his coma, he'd thought no more of it.

So it had been a horrible shock to overhear Poppy talking to his mum and dad about possible brain damage and psychological problems, and telling them to make sure he took it easy and avoided any pressure or stress that might cause a relapse. Then Hermione had given him a Muggle book on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and tried to get him to talk about what was bothering him. He couldn't make her understand that there was nothing to talk about. That there was nothing wrong with him. Although, he thought wryly, if any of them had any idea about him and Harry, they'd consider it definite proof that he'd gone mental and ship him off to St. Mungo's quick smart. Getting away suddenly sounded like the best idea in the world.

"You know what?" Ron said decisively. "You're right."

"Of course I am!" Ginny said automatically. Then spoilt it somewhat by adding, "What am I right about?"

"I think having a nice, restful holiday will do me good. Don't say anything to Mum and Dad yet, though. I need to sort a few things out first."

"Fair enough. Don't leave it too long, though. You know how I am with gossip. I -"

Whatever Ginny was going to say next was forgotten as Molly shouted up the stairs that dinner was ready.

"Great, I'm starving," Ginny said as he jumped up. She opened the door and then turned to Ron. "You'd be mad not to go." Then she turned and headed down the stairs.

"Yeah, I would be," Ron said thoughtfully as he followed her down to dinner.

-----

Ron stumbled slightly as the Portkey deposited him and Harry in the hallway of the London house once again. Harry reached out to steady him, and Ron found himself with his arms wrapped around his best friend. They stood frozen in place, and Ron meant to take a step back, he really did. Harry had said they'd take things as slowly as Ron needed, and Ron was happy to agree. Having all these feelings for Harry was one thing, acting on them was something Ron had decided he wasn't quite ready for. Not yet, anyway. But standing there with his arms around Harry, feeling the heat of his body pressed against him, suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world. This was where he belonged. The thought struck him so forcefully that he gasped.

"Ron?"

Harry looked concerned and began to move back, but Ron's arms tightened around him. He stared into Harry's eyes, and he couldn't stop himself. He leant in and kissed him. Ron allowed himself to feel the tiniest bit smug as Harry's obvious attempts to hold back and let Ron set the pace crumbled. Harry's hand moved to tangle in Ron's hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss even more. Harry began making little sounds at the back of his throat, and Ron thought it was the hottest thing he'd ever heard.

They could have been standing in the hall for minutes or hours. It didn't matter as long as it didn't stop. Ron was lost in the sheer rightness of it all, of holding Harry in his arms and kissing him. And then it was abruptly gone as Harry tore himself away saying, "We have to stop now, or I'm going to break my promise to take this slowly and drag you up to the bedroom."

Ron stared blankly at him for a moment, feeling utterly bereft. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Harry's face. His eyes were darker, he was breathing heavily and his lips were red and wet and... Ron shook himself, shocked at the frisson of pure lust that had shot through him. The startling realisation that he hadn't wanted to stop was unsettling, to say the least. Harry's voice forced his wandering thoughts back to the present.

"C'mon, I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

Ron followed Harry into the living room, still feeling somewhat dazed. Harry said something about drinks and seeing Dobby and headed out to the kitchen. Ron flung himself onto the couch, telling himself firmly to get a grip. He'd think about this later, when he was alone. He didn't trust himself to think clearly when Harry was so close to him. Not after that. Still feeling unsettled, he lit the fire and stared into the flames. He'd always found that soothing.

"Can't find Dobby," Harry said, dragging Ron away from his contemplation. Ron took the bottle of lager Harry was holding out to him and nodded his thanks. Harry continued, "He's probably at Hogwarts. I can call him if you want, or I've got some stuff in the freezer that we can eat."

"We'll manage," Ron said hastily. He liked Dobby, he really did. But the over-exuberant house-elf got a bit much to take sometimes.

"Fair enough," Harry said with a grin as he sat down next to Ron.

Ron took a long swallow of his lager, then said, "I went to the Burrow yesterday. Oh, Mum sends her love, by the way, and wants to know if you're eating properly and why I haven't brought you to the Burrow for a decent meal for a while."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "So when are we expected?"

"This Sunday, tea time. I told her you might be busy, but she had that look on her face."

Harry nodded. "No problem. I'm not doing anything on Sunday."

"I had a chat with Ginny while I was there."

"How is she? Her exams must be coming up soon."

"Sometime in June, I think, but she's got a lot of essays to do as well. She's fine, though. Studying hard, obviously, but I don't think she's really worried. She's sailed through so far."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah. Anyway, we had a very informative discussion. Did you know that every witch and her cat knows that you're planning on going on an extended holiday, and that everyone assumes I'll be going with you? Even Mum and Dad, apparently?"

Harry smiled. "I should hope so. I've dropped enough hints. Good to know that the grapevine is still going strong."

"You did that on purpose?"

"Of course. I know people gossip about me, and I don't want anyone speculating about what I'm doing or who I'm going with, for obvious reasons. The easiest way was to have it become public knowledge. That way everyone's expecting it. And if everyone already knows all about it, no one's going to be that interested when the time comes, you know what I mean? It's old news."

"That's really devious," Ron said admiringly.

"My Slytherin side comes in handy occasionally," Harry said with a grin. He paused, then added, "Are you okay with that? I mean, you are coming, right?"

Ron stared into the fire for a moment, but he really didn't have to think about his answer. "Yeah, 'course I am. The idea of visiting Bill and Charlie and having a holiday sounds great. It's funny. I went to see Ginny 'cause she knows all the gossip, and I wanted to see if she thought anyone'd think it a bit odd if we went away together. Turns out they'd all think it odd if we didn't."

Harry sniggered. "I'm not complaining." Then, smiling contentedly, he said, "The wedding's in, what, ten weeks I think? So we've got plenty of time to get everything organised. Although we probably shouldn't leave it until the last minute, 'cause I know Hermione expects us to be involved in all the wedding stuff and that'll take up a fair bit of time."

The Wedding. Just the thought of it depressed Ron. Hermione's fiancé was the heir to an old pureblood family, and they were having a large, traditional wedding. He was already dreading it. He suddenly noticed that Harry had stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly. Ron shook his head slowly.

"Sorry, mate. Drifted off there for a bit."

Harry immediately stood up, saying, "You need food. Come on, let's get some dinner organised."

Ron slowly got to his feet and headed out into the kitchen. He found Harry standing in front of the large, white cold cupboard, looking confused. Ron vaguely remembered Hermione telling him it was what Muggles used instead of cooling charms to keep food fresh.

"Wow, Dobby's been busy," Ron said as he looked over Harry's shoulder at the small mountain of boxes neatly stacked on the shelves.

"You know what these are?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, of course!" Ron said, feeling vaguely offended. They may not have been rich enough to have any house-elves at the Burrow, but he was surprised that Harry would say something like that to him.

"Well, would you mind telling me, because I've never seen them before. And they definitely weren't in here last time I checked the freezer."

Harry looked totally bewildered as he waved a couple of the boxes around, and Ron grinned sheepishly, feeling a little foolish. He should have remembered that Harry was the one who knew next to nothing about these things. He slung an arm around Harry's shoulder and picked up one of the boxes.

"These, my friend, are instant meals. A lot of people can't afford house-elves, so families that had a few would hire one out to people who were sick, or with a new baby in the house, that sort of thing. One of the things they'd get the elf to do was prepare a whole lot of meals. The elf would cook the meal, then cast a sort of preservation spell on it - that's the thing that looks like a box. When you want to eat it you put the box on a dinner plate, tap it with your wand," he paused, then with a wink continued, "or stick, in your case, and you've got a plate of hot food. Don't know why Dobby put them in the cold cupboard, though. They won't go off."

"I think it was the only place he could put them. I've expanded the pantry into a room for him and Winky."

"That'd be why, then." Ron started rummaging through the boxes. "Shepherd's pie and chips! Brilliant! Oh, and apple pie and custard. That'll do me. What are you going to have?"

Harry settled for the boxes he'd already picked up, which turned out to be roast lamb and apple crumble and custard, and within a minute they were eating.

"I've got to admit, this is a bloody good idea. I'll have to tell Dobby to make sure he keeps a good supply of these around for us," Harry said as he turned his attention to the preserved dessert.

When Ron finally pushed his bowl away, he gave a satisfied sigh and said, "I could get used to this, you know."

Harry leant over and dropped a kiss on his lips. "That's the general idea," he said with a small smile. He looked at Ron carefully for a moment. "You do know that I want you to come and live here with me, don't you?"

Ron was nodding before he could stop himself. Harry had all the subtlety of a Bludger to the guts; of course he knew.

"Good. Great. So you'll, um, think about it then? I mean, there's plenty of space, if you want your own room. Though I'd rather you... My room's big enough for both of us. Not that you have to..."

Ron fought down a grin as Harry tied himself into verbal knots. He knew he'd move in with Harry, if for no other reason than he'd be homeless once Lee took over the shop and moved into the flat, and Ron definitely didn't want to go back to the Burrow. But he was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed keeping Harry somewhat off balance. He suddenly remembered Ginny explaining to him once about why she made her admirers work so hard for a crumb of attention from her. 'Keeps 'em keen', she'd said with a giggle. 'And it's fun.' He hadn't understood it at the time. He glanced at Harry, who was chewing his bottom lip, looking like he was debating what to say next. Ron took pity on him.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Ron said. "Or should we key me into the wards first?"

"Definitely the wards," Harry said as he stood up, clearing the table with a wave of his hand.

"Okay," Ron said agreeably as he stood and followed Harry out into the hallway.

Harry led him to the front door and said, "I need to cut your hand, and then place it against the front door."

Ron was taken aback. "You're using blood wards?"

"They're the most secure," Harry said defensively. "And I should warn you. They're also - sort of sentient."

Ron really was surprised by that. Sentience was usually only found in the wards of ancient magical buildings, like Hogwarts. It took a vast amount of power, and for Harry to have created them was... Was actually pretty scary. Something of Ron's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Harry instantly started babbling something about not knowing how it'd happened.

"Harry!" Ron said loudly. Harry's mouth snapped shut. "It's fine. Honestly. Just a bit of a surprise. I mean, it's one thing to know in my head that you're that powerful. It just brings it home a bit when I find out something like this. That's all," he said firmly. "Shall we get on with it?"

Ron held out his hand. Harry quickly cut a slash across the palm and pressed the bleeding hand to the front door. The wards flared and Ron gasped. He felt a warm, loving presence surround him. It felt familiar, and he knew he'd felt it before. He vaguely noticed Harry healing the cut on his hand as the warmth slowly faded into the background. If he concentrated, he could still feel it. It felt like home. It felt like Harry.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

Ron's attention snapped back to Harry, who was standing in front of him, looking worried. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He turned away from the front door, and noticed there was a door to his right that he could have sworn he'd never seen before. Harry opened the door and walked in, and Ron followed him. He found himself in a large study.

"Because this is a Muggle area, I thought it was probably safer not to have any magical stuff lying around the house. So this is where I keep it all," Harry said. "It's shielded and the wards protect it, so only you and I can get in here. No one else can see the door."

That explained it then, Ron thought. He looked around. There were several bookcases and a couple of glass-fronted cabinets full of knick-knacks set against the walls. An imposing desk made of some sort of dark, highly polished wood stood at one end of the room, and couple of comfortable looking leather armchairs were set in front of the large fireplace at the other. He noticed Harry's broom was propped up in one corner. Every bit of exposed wall seemed to be covered in photographs, and a large Gryffindor shield was set on the wall above the desk.

Harry stepped behind the desk and placed his hand on the centre of the shield. It glowed for a moment and then swung open, revealing a small niche. Harry reached in and pulled out two leather pouches, a small leather case and an envelope, which he then placed on his desk.

"As you can see, this is the safe. Now you're keyed into the wards it'll open for you, too," Harry said.

Ron perched on the edge of the desk and watched as Harry opened the small case and took out a heavy gold chain. He placed it on the palm of his hand and there was a brief flash of light. Then he handed the chain to Ron and said, "This is an emergency Portkey to the house. It has the same activation phrase as mine. Marauder's Rest. If anything happens I want you safe, and the wards on the house will protect you now." Ron could see the plea in Harry's eyes so he nodded, smiling somewhat at his best friend's paranoia. But he put the chain on anyway. It wouldn't be visible under his shirt, so nobody would ask awkward questions about where he'd got it. And it seemed to make Harry happy.

Harry closed the small case and slipped it back into the niche in the wall. Then he turned back to the desk and picked up the two leather pouches lying there.

"These are linked to the main Potter vault. The red one is for Galleons, and the black one for Muggle money. Just hold it in your hand and say how much you want out loud. A Galleon is worth about five pounds in Muggle money, okay? Use these whenever you need money, not just in emergencies."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry interrupted, saying, "I know you have your own money, but you might not always be able to get to Gringotts. This is more convenient. That's all," he added firmly.

"Fine," Ron said, rolling his eyes. Harry knew how he felt about anything that smacked even faintly of charity, so Ron didn't feel he needed to say anything more on the issue.

Harry placed the Gringotts bags back in the safe, and then picked up the envelope. He stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "If anything happens to me, take this to Ragnok personally. It's very important."

"You mean the Head of Gringotts Bank, Ragnok?"

"Yeah. First time I went to Gringotts after the war, the desk Goblin said he wanted to see me. He's helped me with some stuff. Said it was an investment in the future."

Ron stared at him in shock. Ragnok rarely had dealings with wizards. Harry seemed totally oblivious to how unprecedented this was.

"You know that the really old, powerful Goblins can sense a wizard's magical strength, don't you?" Ron said slowly. "You can't shield against them. At least, that's what Bill said, and he'd know. Ragnok would have sensed you the minute you walked into the place." And known exactly how powerful you are, Ron added silently.

"Yeah, I thought it was something like that," Harry said. "I've never had a problem with the Goblins, and if Ragnok wants to help, I'm happy to let him. We both have the same views about the current Ministry and its laws. He's got nothing to lose by helping me, and the possibility of gaining in the future. Everybody wins." He placed the envelope in the niche with the other things and then closed the safe. "He looked really ancient. I mean, I've never seen a young looking Goblin, but Ragnok looked hundreds of years old."

"Probably is," Ron agreed absently. He'd just remembered why they were talking about the old Goblin in the first place. "Harry, when you say, 'if something happens to you', what do you mean? You don't think anyone at the Ministry suspects anything, do you?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of any problems with the Ministry. This is just an emergency back-up plan. A gorgeous redhead, who's really good at all this planning and strategy stuff, once told me that only an idiot didn't have a back-up plan," Harry said as he walked around the desk to stand in front of Ron.

"I didn't think Ginny was that good at strategy."

"Prat," Harry said as he slipped his arms around Ron's neck. Harry nudged a hip against Ron's knee, and he shuffled back a little on the desk and spread his legs, letting Harry move closer still. His eyes drifted shut as Harry leant in and kissed him, and his arms seemed to wrap themselves around Harry of their own volition. As before, Ron could feel Harry holding himself back, keeping the kiss gentle and slow, and this time Ron was the one who broke the kiss. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment on Harry's face, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure he wasn't imagining it.

"So, fancy that cuppa now?" Harry asked as he stepped back to let Ron stand up.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Ron said. "Got any biscuits?"

He didn't have to see Harry's face to know that he was rolling his eyes, and Ron burst out laughing as Harry muttered something about people with bottomless pits instead of stomachs.

He was so predictable.

-----

Thanks to those who've taken the time to review - I really appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was almost midnight by the time Ron Apparated back into his dark and silent flat. Harry had obviously decided to stay over at Grimmauld Place with Remus after all, because he always left a light burning when he was home. Ron made his way into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. He debated having some coffee, but decided he couldn't be bothered. Besides, he hadn't drunk that much, despite the twins' best efforts.

He really hadn't wanted to go out with them. He'd much rather have gone to visit Remus with Harry. Actually, he'd have happily sat and watched paint dry as long as Harry was with him. But as Harry had pointed out, they needed to stick to their usual routines as much as possible, and that included going out on the town with his brothers and spending time with his other friends.

So Ron had dutifully agreed to a night out with Fred, George and other sundry drunken gits. To be honest, he'd quite enjoyed the strip show. He might fancy Harry, but that didn't stop him appreciating a nice pair of tits. And who wouldn't enjoy having a few drinks and swapping dirty jokes with their mates? But having to fend off amorous women, without appearing to do so, had been difficult and extremely irritating. In the end he'd claimed to be feeling a bit off and had made his escape, saying he had to be up early to open the shop.

It was odd, Ron thought as he got ready for bed, how empty the place felt when Harry was away. It wasn't just that he was alone in the flat; it was more that he felt like a part of him was missing. It'd only been - what? Three weeks since they'd got together? But it felt like longer. Ron pulled on the old, worn t-shirt and boxers that he slept in as he considered why that was. Probably because it had been. Whatever it was that was going on between them had started long before that. What they'd done that night at Harry's house had only forced them to acknowledge it in a way they hadn't before.

Ron shook his head as he climbed into bed. It wasn't Harry that had been forced to face it. Harry had wanted him for ages, apparently. And looking back, Ron could see that it had been obvious, if he had been willing to admit it to himself. He'd even told him, last New Year's Eve. Granted, he'd been pissed as a newt at the time, and Ron had dismissed it as a horrible, drunken mistake that Harry thankfully hadn't seemed to remember afterwards. But Ron remembered, despite the fact that he'd run away the next morning and had spent a solid weekend in bed trying to forget with that girl who'd slipped him her Floo address. Annette? Anna? Fuck, he couldn't even remember her name. Only that she'd been very willing. It hadn't worked, though. He'd still remembered. Remembered Harry dragging him down on top of him. Remembered the feel of hard muscle as his best friend had pressed him into the bed. Remembered the taste of his skin as they'd kissed and the heat of his body as they'd writhed and rutted against each other. Remembered Harry whispering against his throat that he loved him as he came.

Ron groaned as the memory sparked a flare of arousal low in his stomach, and his hand automatically reached for his rapidly hardening cock. He seemed to be in a constant state of arousal lately. After their first night together Harry had backed off, leaving it up to Ron to set the pace and make the next move. But Ron wasn't sure he could do that, no matter how much he wanted to. Wasn't sure he was strong enough to take that step, knowing what it would mean if he did. What that would make him in the eyes of his family. But God, he wanted it. No, it was more than that. This went way past just fancying a shag. It was a constant, soul-deep ache. He needed him. The merest thought of Harry had him hard and aching in moments, and the memory of what Harry had done, the way he'd kissed him, the hot, wet mouth that had sucked -

"Fuck!"

Ron panted, his hand slick with his own come as he swore under his breath. He couldn't keep tossing off to the memory of Harry sucking him off and pretend that that was enough. Why couldn't Harry just bloody get on with it? He wouldn't have to decide anything then. It'd make things so much easier. Ron sighed. There's no way he'd do that. He already felt guilty about 'taking advantage' of him. Which really didn't make sense, not when that was exactly what Ron wanted him to do.

Ron fumbled for his wand and cast a quick cleaning charm. He was going to have to talk to Harry. After work tomorrow, he'd see if Harry was doing anything. Maybe they could go to the house and... Yeah, talk. Plan of action made, Ron rolled onto his side, dragged the covers up and settled down to sleep.

---

The comforting smell of frying bacon wafted up the stairs and Harry followed it down to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling a little in anticipation.

"Morning, cub," Remus said as he deftly dished up eggs and bacon. "Want a cuppa?"

"Mm, that'd be good, thanks," Harry mumbled as he sat at the kitchen table, yawning widely. He smiled his thanks as Remus put a plate and a mug of tea in front of him. "Tonks working today?"

"It's her turn with the new trainee Aurors. They don't get weekends off."

"Please tell me she's not taking them for stealth training?"

"Cheeky sod!" Remus said, grinning widely. "You'd better not let her hear you say that."

"Don't worry, my days of living dangerously are well and truly over," Harry said with a chuckle, and tucked into his breakfast. There was a clatter at the window, and a moment later a rather imperious looking owl landed on the table next to Harry's plate and glared at him, clicking its beak impatiently.

"All right, keep your feathers on," Harry muttered as he removed the scroll tied to the owl's leg. He offered it a bacon rind, but the owl regarded it disdainfully before turning its back on Harry and flying out the window again.

"Where the hell did Draco find that owl? I swear, if I believed in reincarnation..." Harry's voice trailed off as he shook his head.

"I did wonder about that myself. I've never seen a jet-black owl before. And the way it just turned up and refused to leave was decidedly odd. It's absolutely devoted to him," Remus added with a chuckle. "We are absolutely sure that Snape's dead, aren't - Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, that was thoughtless of me."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and shook his head. He knew that Snape was dead. Voldemort had been incandescent with rage when the spy's luck had finally run out, and the vision of Snape's torture and execution had torn through Harry's mental shields. They'd both screamed for hours... Harry resolutely pushed the memory away. Snape really had been Dumbledore's man, right to the end. Harry wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive Dumbledore for that particular deception. He understood why he'd done what he had, but -

"Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically. He picked up the message and scanned it briefly before passing it to Remus. Who swore under his breath before tossing it onto the table.

"This is getting absolutely ridiculous! What the hell is the Ministry playing at?"

"Remus, calm down. It's not altogether unexpected, you know. The Ministry has been tightening the screws for a while now. Fortunately for us, they're pureblood morons who forget there's a world outside their control. I've spoken to an import company that can buy in the moonstones directly from Sri Lanka. We'll just need to grind them ourselves. Thanks to Neville the greenhouses at the Manor have made us self-sufficient in aconite and the other plants we need, and we're already getting the silver nitrate from a Muggle chemical company. It's all under control."

"That's not the bloody point!"

Remus pushed away from the table and strode over to the sink. He stood there for a moment, staring out of the window, and then sighed heavily before turning back to face Harry.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but this really is the last straw. As if the Werewolf Control Act hasn't made it hard enough for someone with lycanthropy to get a job or somewhere to live, now they're trying to restrict access to the Wolfsbane potion."

"I know. Look, maybe if I went to the Ministry and -"

"No." Remus sank wearily down into his chair again. "I appreciate the offer but it'd only make matters worse. The last thing you need is for Scrimgeour to think you're challenging him."

"You're probably right. Actually, I think he might be starting to lose interest in me. I've kept my head down as much as possible, so there hasn't been anything in the papers about me for ages. And I've noticed the surveillance has been a bit slap-dash recently. Out of sight, out of mind, maybe?"

"I hope so, for your sake. And if that is the case, we want it kept that way. The last thing we need is anyone digging around to see what you're up to. We can't risk doing anything that might draw attention to The Lily Pad. We're the only option these people have, especially now, and that is a dreadful indictment of our world."

Harry was proud of The Lily Pad. After the war, when he'd finally made his way to Gringotts to claim his inheritance, he had been absolutely gobsmacked to discover that he owned rather a lot of property, and more Galleons than he could spend in several lifetimes. After the shock had worn off, he began speaking with people he trusted about the shortcomings he saw in the post-war magical community. The Ministry and Voldemort had been as bad as each other, in Harry's opinion, and neither cared about their victims. But somebody had to help them, and Harry could certainly afford to do so. He had no idea how to go about it, however. Remus had been one of the people he'd consulted, and The Lily Pad had been the result.

One of the properties Harry owned was a large, two storey building in Diagon Alley, a few shops past Ollivander's, and it had proven perfect for their purposes. Harry had offered the top floor, free of charge, to _The__Quibbler_, and Luna Lovegood had gleefully moved in, printing presses and all. The ground floor he'd offered to Remus. After a great deal of consideration, they'd set up a Muggle-style bookshop and coffee bar combination that took up over half of the floor. The shop had regular displays of the latest Muggle best sellers in its window, along with a good selection of the more outlandish magical writings and posters advertising _The__Quibbler_. Whoever owned the place was clearly a crackpot, general opinion had it, but as it was tucked away at the end of Diagon Alley it attracted little attention and was thus easily avoided by 'sensible' people. Which suited Harry and Remus perfectly. Because everyone overlooked the innocuous sounding Lumus & Associates, whose offices occupied the rest of the ground floor. Hiding in plain sight, Remus had called it. The bookshop and cafe provided a plausible reason for people to regularly drop in to The Lily Pad, and Lumus provided a good number of these regular clients with the latest formulation of the Wolfsbane potion each month. It also provided access to housing, employment and any other material aid that might be needed. And if the Ministry discovered what they were doing, they'd be on their way to Azkaban so fast their feet wouldn't hit the floor.

"Who's on today?"

"Luna's expecting a delivery, so she said she'd man the office for me this morning, and I'll go in after lunch. Full moon was over a week ago, so all she should get is the odd inquiry. I told her to Floo me if anything urgent came up, and to just put up the sign telling people to ask at the bookshop if she had to leave." Remus sighed as he rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. "Sometimes I wish Greyback was still alive, so I could kill the bastard again. There's no way the Ministry could have got away with passing those laws if he hadn't caused so much damage."

"We're doing what we can. Between The Lily Pad and The Potions Research Centre -"

"Which is doing brilliant work by the way, thanks to its handsome, charismatic and talented Director."

Harry grinned as he turned to look at the smirking blond, posing in the kitchen doorway. "Modest, too," he said.

"Draco! What on earth are you doing here?" Remus said with a smile.

"I was shrieking like a Knockturn Alley hag through the Floo, but you two were obviously too busy gossiping to pay attention, so I invited myself in."

Harry rolled his eyes, but found himself smiling as Draco Malfoy pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Remus got out another mug and poured him some tea, and then topped up his own and Harry's drinks.

"We got your message," Harry said, indicating the scroll lying on the table. Draco sneered.

"I sent my order to Twirpmins a full three weeks before the new Ministry regulations came into force. They kept insisting they were waiting for a new shipment to arrive. And then this morning they had the temerity to send me one ounce of powdered moonstone, an apology and a copy of the updated Ministry Restricted Substances Act. One fucking ounce! I told them to stuff it up their arses, and that unicorns would be frolicking in Azkaban before they could expect any further business from myself or my associates. Cretins, the lot of them."

"I know," Harry said. "Now, how desperate is the moonstone situation?"

"We've got enough for probably two more batches of Wolfsbane in stock," Draco replied. "But I wouldn't want to risk waiting. I'd hate to have to refuse anyone. No one should have to endure being locked in a cage and treated like an animal for the dubious privilege of being poisoned by that Ministry slop. I don't know who brews it, but they make Longbottom look positively gifted."

"Neville's a brilliant Herbologist," Remus said chidingly.

"I quite agree, obviously," Draco said, waving an elegant hand dismissively, "or I wouldn't allow him anywhere near my greenhouses. But he can't brew a potion to save his life. That's the point I'm making."

"I believe the Ministry Potions Department is still brewing from the original formula," Harry said mildly, adding a little more fuel to the fire of Draco's wrath. Draco in high dudgeon was always amusing.

"Of course they are," Draco said scathingly. "They're barely-trained hacks and the original formula taxes the limit of their abilities. The fact that it's toxic and sometimes totally ineffective if even the slightest error occurs in the brewing doesn't seem to worry them one jot. They're only giving it to Dark creatures, after all, so what does it matter? Bastards. No Master worth his salt would demean himself in such a way. Such a highly complex potion must, of necessity, be considered a work in progress. Severus spent years refining that potion, and I myself have made many modifications, and indeed will continue to do so."

"I must confess that the improvements you've made have been truly remarkable," Remus said soothingly, giving a grinning Harry a reproachful look. "I've never felt so well. The work you're doing has made a tremendous difference. Everyone has commented on it."

Draco nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I was astonished myself at how well the latest batch worked. Combined with the morning-after strengthening potion I've developed, I feel as though we're almost there. I still have a lot of work to do on particular aspects, obviously. I would like to totally alleviate the pain of transformation, particularly for the children. It occurred to me that perhaps I need to be a little more innovative. What do you think about..."

Harry sat back sipping his tea as he watched Draco discussing his latest work on the Wolfsbane potion, and pondered how improbable this scene would have seemed to them in their school days. But war forces many changes, and it had certainly changed Draco Malfoy.

When he'd failed to kill Dumbledore, and Snape had been forced to do it and thereby give away his 'true' loyalties, Voldemort had been less than impressed to say the least. Draco had been severely tortured and then thrown into a cell, where he'd remained, apparently forgotten, until Snape had somehow convinced Voldemort to allow him to use Draco as an assistant. Snape had immediately begun to train him in his Potions Mastery. With hindsight, Draco had freely admitted to Harry one night when they'd both drunk far too much firewhisky, he should have known it couldn't last. 'I'm Fate's plaything, Potter, and she's very hard on her toys, as you well know,' Draco had slurred, before passing out in a drunken heap.

For two years, Draco had almost been able to forget that he was a virtual prisoner in the stronghold of a madman. He was being trained by the most gifted Potions Master in centuries, and he'd managed to avoid taking the Dark Mark by simply avoiding Voldemort, who had seemingly forgotten about him. Unfortunately for Draco, Fate and Voldemort apparently remembered his existence simultaneously.

The day Draco's father was killed when a Death Eater raid on Azkaban failed was when it had all started falling apart. Snape was discovered to be the spy responsible for warning the Order of the impending attack, and was tortured and executed. Draco had found himself once more broken and bleeding on a cell floor, guilty by association, and knowing his days were numbered.

Harry took a sip of his tea. Draco and Remus were still deep in some sort of technical discussion, so Harry allowed his thoughts to drift once more. He, Ron and Hermione had returned to Grimmauld Place after the Azkaban raid. Ron and Hermione's on-again off-again relationship was on at that point, and after spending a couple of days at the house catching up with various Order members, they'd taken the opportunity to spend some time with her parents. So Harry was alone in the house when the emergency Portkey alarm had sounded the morning after the full moon.

Remus had spent every full moon he could, during the last two years of the war, attempting to get between Fenrir Greyback and his latest intended victims; a very dangerous personal mission. So Harry had raced into the hallway expecting to find him bloodied and beaten. He was, but this time he wasn't alone.

Harry had barely recognised Draco, his face was so badly swollen and bruised. He was covered in blood, and his leg was obviously broken. Harry was even more surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy lying next to him, unconscious, a ragged, bleeding wound on her shoulder.

It was two days before Draco was able to tell them the full story. Voldemort had given him a last chance to redeem himself. He'd been ordered to torture his mother to death to prove his loyalty and remove the taint of Snape's betrayal. He would then be deemed worthy of Voldemort's Mark. When he'd refused, Avery and McNair had dumped them in the forest, sport for Greyback. Remus had arrived a few minutes later. Not soon enough to prevent Narcissa being infected, but soon enough to drive Greyback off and save their lives. The moment he'd transformed back he'd used the Portkey to bring them back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry was brought back to the present by Remus's voice, offering a fresh cup of tea.

"Not for me, thanks," Draco said as he rose to his feet. "I really only popped in to make sure you two don't forget about tomorrow."

"Of course not!" Harry said.

"And put an order in with the Muggle company for the moonstones."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll do it this afternoon, okay?"

"See that you do. And don't forget. Tomorrow, two o'clock. Don't be late."

As Remus began to stand up, Draco waved him back into his seat. "I'll see myself out," he said, as he strode out into the hallway.

"As if I'd be late for Katie's birthday party," Harry said after a moment, feeling vaguely offended. "I've even managed to get that doll she wanted, and you have no idea how many shops I traipsed through before I finally found one."

"You know how protective Draco is of the children," Remus said in a conciliatory tone.

"Yeah, I know. He's positively neglectful compared to Narcissa, though."

Remus smiled. "She's the alpha female. All the cubs in the pack belong to her, and that'd be the case even if they still had parents. As orphans, well, her wolf demands she mother them all."

"You call me cub," Harry teased gently. "Does that mean I get to call you Mum?"

Remus chuckled. "Not if you value your life. And strictly speaking, Moony is the one who insists you're his cub. Your mum and dad were his pack, and as far as he's concerned, you belong to him. So I'm stuck with you."

Harry gave a snort of laughter as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

"I suppose I'd better go and put that order in, or his majesty will have my guts for garters," Harry said. "Honestly, I swear he thinks I'm an idiot with the attention span of a gnat."

Remus chuckled as he followed Harry to the fireplace. "He worries, that's all."

Harry shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Remus." He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire, called out, "Diagon Alley," and stepped into the flames.

---

"Harry, you home?" Ron called as he came through the front door.

"In the kitchen," Harry replied. "Want a cuppa? Kettle's just boiled."

"I'd kill for one," Ron said as he dragged out a chair and slumped into it. A moment later, Harry put a mug of tea on the table in front of him. "Ta, mate. Been rushed off my feet today, and I'm starving. Any chance of a biscuit?"

"What'd your last slave die of?" Harry said with a grin as he grabbed the biscuit tin out of the cupboard and dumped it on the kitchen table.

Ron took a slurp of his tea and quickly munched his way through half a dozen biscuits to take the edge off his hunger. He'd barely had time to stop for a few bites of a sandwich all day. He picked up his tea and sipped at it, watching Harry over the rim of the cup. His hair was sticking up at the front, as though he'd run his hand through it, and he was sucking on the end of his quill as he stared at the crossword in front of him. Ron found himself watching Harry's lips, and a jolt went through him, reminding him of last night's decision. He knew he had to word things very carefully, as they never knew who was listening from one day to the next. Ron felt a nervous flutter in his stomach as he said, "Harry?"

"I'm pants at crosswords," Harry said, speaking over the top of Ron. "I mean, listen to this: 'The seeker finds this odd trench in a wet field; it's where the game started'. Two words, ten and five letters. What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Ron didn't even need to think about that one. It was pathetically simple. "'s obvious. Queerditch Marsh. You know, odd trench, queer ditch. The wet field's a marsh. So you get Queerditch Marsh, where Quidditch was invented," Ron said. He didn't know why Harry tried to do cryptic crosswords; he was horrible at them. He watched as Harry slowly filled in the letters, muttering about stupid clues as he wrote.

Ron took a deep breath and quickly said, "You doing anything tonight?" before his courage could fail him.

"Nothing definite," Harry muttered absently. "All right, what about this one? 'Add a spark to something from the blue; you'll be the fastest of them all.' Eight letters, third one's an R."

"Firebolt," Ron snapped out, feeling somewhat irritated at how oblivious Harry could be at times. "Bloody hell, mate, you own one."

"Doesn't make working out the answer any easier. How'd you work that one out, then?" he asked as he started filling in the squares.

Ron sighed. "Think about it. You'll never learn if you don't try and work them out for yourself."

Harry gave an annoyed huff. "I do try, you know. It's supposed to be about Quidditch. I thought it'd be easy." He turned his attention back to the newspaper, his brow furrowed.

Ron thought the clues were childishly simple, but he was tactful enough not to say it. Besides, he didn't want to get into an argument. He had other things in mind, if he could get Harry's attention off the crossword for two minutes.

"I thought we could go out for a pint and a bite to eat if you're not doing anything. I, er, I wouldn't mind trying that place in Muggle London again."

Harry nodded absently, and Ron could see that he was scratching letters on the edge of the newspaper and then crossing them out again.

Resisting the temptation to _Incendio_ the newspaper, Ron raised his voice and said, slowly and clearly, "I really liked that place. Felt really at home there. Remember what we did the first time we went there? I thought we could try it again."

"Yeah, okay. Look, I reckon this one's an anagram. What do you -" Harry stopped abruptly and then slowly raised his head. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he carefully placed the quill down on the newspaper and said, "You mean you want to - I mean... Really?"

Ron nodded, relieved that Harry had finally got it. "Yeah. I thought it was time we tried it again. What do you reckon?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Sounds good to me. If you're sure you, er, fancy it."

Ron simply nodded. Harry immediately pushed himself to his feet and said, "Might as well head off now, then."

"Oh. I was going to have a shower and get changed first."

"I wouldn't worry about it, mate. You're hungry. Let's get you fed."

Ron was about to protest when he remembered that they weren't really going to a Muggle pub. So it didn't matter.

"Right then. Let me grab my jacket and we'll head off."

They casually made their way out into Muggle London, Ron following Harry's lead. They'd been walking for about ten minutes when Harry turned down an alleyway.

"I'll Apparate us from here," Harry said, wrapping an arm around Ron's waist, and a moment later they were standing in the neat hallway of the Mews house once more. Before either of them could say a word, they were tackled by Dobby. The elf was bouncing with excitement.

"Dobby is so pleased you is here. What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter Sir and his Wheezy? Is you wanting something to eat, or drink?"

At Harry's questioning look, Ron said, "I really am starving, mate."

Dobby gave a squeak of excitement and vanished into the kitchen.

"Dinner it is, then," Harry said.

By the time they'd been virtually force-fed more food and drink than two people could reasonably consume, Ron was firmly convinced that Dobby was insane. But finally, Harry managed to convince the demented elf that what they really needed was time to be alone, and after an embarrassingly knowing look, Dobby had returned to his den.

Soft music was playing in the living room, and the lights were low. Harry handed Ron a glass of brandy and then took a seat next to him on the couch. Ron nearly choked as he took too large a gulp of his drink, and Harry plucked the glass from his hand and patted his back while he caught his breath. Ron felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

Harry chuckled, his voice low. "Don't worry about it," he said. Ron felt Harry's arm slip further around him. And then he felt Harry put a hand on his thigh and immediately tensed up, a mortifyingly unmanly squeak escaping his throat.

Harry sighed and started to move away, and Ron clutched at his hand. "No," he barked. "Don't. I have to do this."

"You don't have to do anything, Ron. I'm not going to push you before you're ready, and you're obviously not ready yet."

Ron closed his eyes and exhaled loudly in frustration. "But I am," he protested. "It's all I can think about. You and me, and..." He shook his head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just over-thinking it. I was fine, and then suddenly my muscles tensed and... Maybe I'm just too tired tonight."

Harry cocked his head and gave Ron an appraising look for a moment. Then he stood up and held out his hand. "C'mon. You need a hot shower, and then I'm going to give you a massage. Like you said, you're tired and stressed. You need to relax. Forget about anything else tonight."

It did sound inviting. It had been a very long day, and his back was killing him. So Ron allowed himself to be led to the bathroom and faithfully followed Harry's firm instructions to have a long, hot shower. And he had to admit, he felt 100 percent better as he dried himself and slipped on the fluffy dressing gown Harry had given him.

"Right," Harry said briskly as Ron stepped out of the bathroom. "Massage oil can be a bit messy, so I've put a spare sheet down. Hop on the bed and lie on your stomach." He handed Ron a towel and headed into the bathroom. Ron smiled at Harry's tactful withdrawal as he slipped off the dressing gown and wrapped the towel around his waist. He crawled onto the centre of the bed and lay down, pillowing his head on his arms. There was music playing softly in the background, and the room was pleasantly warm. Ron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It felt peaceful, and Ron felt himself really beginning to relax.

"Ron?"

He opened his eyes. Harry had apparently been busy. The bed was a cosy, candle-lit haven in the darkened room. Harry was kneeling on the bed next to him, smiling down at him. He was holding a small bowl, and was wearing only loose cotton pants.

"Comfortable?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Feel better already."

"That's good," Harry said softly. "Can I move the towel? I'll just drape it over you, so it doesn't get in the way of the massage." Ron raised his hips slightly and Harry duly adjusted the towel. "Now close your eyes and relax, love."

The bed dipped, and Ron felt a weight settle on the back of his thighs. A moment later, warm, slippery hands began kneading his shoulders. Ron could smell vanilla, and something spicy, as Harry worked on his muscles. He decided that Harry had to have done this before, because he was brilliant at it. Every knot, every ache was gradually smoothed and soothed under those clever, knowing fingers. Ron found himself groaning appreciatively as Harry worked down his back and then on to the long muscles in his legs, then sighed happily as Harry got to work on his feet. His dad often gave his mum a foot rub when she was feeling particularly tired. Now Ron knew why she enjoyed it so much. He'd never have imagined it could feel so good.

Ron was floating in a pleasurable haze. He vaguely noticed the bed dip again and felt Harry straddling his thighs once more. But Harry's touch was lighter this time. A little burst of warmth by his ear, following by the press of soft lips caused Ron to shiver and gasp. The light touches became teasing as Harry pressed soft kisses to his skin, and Ron's breath hitched as something warm and wet very slowly ran down his spine. Harry's tongue, he realised as he felt warm puffs of air that felt shivery on the wet skin. He hoped the oil tasted as nice as it smelled, because he really didn't want Harry to stop as he gradually moved lower.

Ron shifted restlessly. He was getting hard. Harry's hands were now gently kneading the cheeks of his arse as his tongue reached the base of his spine. Ron couldn't stop the moan that escaped as Harry lingered there. It was warm and wet and he wanted more. He felt something, a vague tingling, and then Harry's hands became more insistent and there was Harry's tongue again, so slippery and hot and - "Fuck!" He couldn't breathe. The air seemed too heavy and he had to gasp as heat flooded through him and his universe shrank to Harry's hands holding him open and Harry's tongue doing wicked, sinfully amazing things that sent sparks dancing up and down his spine and he needed... And Harry seemed to know, because the hands eased him onto his back and the wet heat surrounded him and sucked him down and he strained against the hands that held him firmly as the shivery sparky feeling wound tighter and tighter until it suddenly broke free, the tension pouring out of him in wave after wave after wave until he drifted away.

---

Ron yawned and opened his eyes. A dull, grey light was seeping around the edge of the curtains, and there was a solid, warm presence in the bed next to him, snoring softly. He eased himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom at the urging of his bladder. He moved as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Harry, but as he slipped back into bed a sleepy voice murmured, "You all right?"

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

"'kay," Harry muttered as he snuggled up to Ron. Ron slipped an arm around Harry and pulled him close. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts of last night filled his head. Considering the disaster it could have been, it'd actually turned out rather well. He felt good. The seemingly ever-present tension in his back and shoulders was completely gone. Who knew Harry was so good at giving massages? And blowjobs, crowed the sniggering teenage part of himself that still lurked in the back of his head. He was spectacular at those. He wondered idly if Harry had planned something like this all along. Had he known that Ron's Gryffindor spirit would make a valiant attempt to plunge fearlessly in, but that the rest of him would panic like a particularly skittish virgin? Probably, Ron concluded ruefully, but he really didn't care. It had given him what he wanted, after all. He was naked, cuddling up in bed with an equally naked Harry, and he didn't have even the slightest urge to run screaming from the room. Life was good.

"You're looking particularly pleased with yourself."

Harry's voice broke into his thoughts, and Ron opened his eyes to find Harry watching him. "Thought you'd gone back to sleep," he said.

"You were thinking too loudly. I could hear the wheels turning."

Ron saw the hint of uncertainty in Harry's eyes, and smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine. Best night's sleep I've had in ages. In fact, I'm considering hiring you as my personal masseur."

Harry gave an amused snort. "My rates are rather high," he said. "But in your case I'm willing to work out some sort of trade."

"I'm sure I can think of something that I could do for you," Ron said. Then he slowly, deliberately licked his lips, surprising himself with how much he was enjoying flirting with Harry. He wasn't prepared for the sudden, desperate desire that he saw in Harry's eyes just before he pushed himself away from Ron and sat up.

"Shit, Ron. Don't say things like that when you're lying naked next to me. You don't know how hard it is not to just..." He exhaled heavily. "I'm... Bathroom..."

Harry fled.

Ron just lay there for a moment, stunned, until the absurdity of the situation hit him, and he groaned in frustration. Harry was obviously still certain that Ron wasn't really ready. Which was clearly ridiculous. It had all turned out fine in the end, hadn't it? Or maybe Ron just needed to be a bit more direct. Sniggering at the somewhat surreal thought that he'd actually been too subtle for someone, Ron decided that the more direct approach was definitely the one to take. He cast a quick mouth freshening charm and then propped himself up on one forearm, facing the bathroom door.

"Oy, Potter, get your scrawny arse out here now," he bellowed. A minute or so later, the bathroom door opened. Ron was a little disappointed to see that Harry had put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but quickly decided that was probably for the best. He needed to make Harry understand that he was okay with things. And then they could plan to spend a night here during the week. Or next weekend. Yeah, that'd work.

"Sit down a minute," Ron said, scooting back a little to give Harry room. "Have you cleaned your teeth yet?"

Harry looked totally confused as he nodded. "What's that got -"

"Good," Ron said as he grabbed Harry and pulled him down for a kiss. It was soft, and sweet. And short, as Harry broke the kiss after a few moments and moved back a little.

"I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for yet, Ron. You thought you were ready last night, but you obviously weren't. I need to know that you want this as much as I do," Harry said softly.

"I do," Ron blurted out. "I really do. I think I just panicked a bit, that's all. But what you did was brilliant. I didn't have to think about it at all. So you can, you know, do that again, right? If you want to, I mean. I wouldn't mind if you..." Ron waved a hand vaguely and shrugged helplessly, willing Harry to understand.

Harry stared at him. He had an odd expression on his face that Ron didn't know how to interpret. "You didn't have to think about it," he said slowly.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. So it was easier, you see? Look, I'm no good at talking about this stuff, but you know what I mean, right?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Then he pushed himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed again. Ron was getting the distinct impression that he'd bollocksed up somehow, but had no clue why. Shimmering numbers suddenly appeared over the bed. 10.55.

"Didn't realise it was that late. You must be hungry. I'll go and tell Dobby to sort out something for breakfast," Harry said. A moment later he was gone.

"Sodding hell," Ron muttered as he climbed out of bed. He spotted his clothes in a neat pile on one of the chairs. He grabbed them and headed into the bathroom.

"Tea or coffee?" Harry asked as Ron walked into the kitchen.

"Um, tea would be great, thanks," Ron said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. The table was laden with food. Dobby had obviously raided the Hogwarts kitchens again.

"Help yourself," Harry said as he placed a mug of tea in front of Ron.

Ron started loading up his plate. Harry was calmly eating his breakfast while reading the newspaper. Ron picked up his knife and fork, and then put them down again.

"Harry? Are we okay?"

Harry looked up, and for a moment Ron couldn't read his expression. Then he smiled and said, "'Course we are, mate."

"It's just... You rushed out and -"

"I just didn't realise how late it was, that's all. I've got a lot to do today, and your mum's expecting you for lunch."

"Oh, right." Ron picked up his knife and fork, and Harry turned his attention back to the newspaper. After a moment he gave a derisive snort.

"Bloody hell. Listen to this."

As Harry began reading out the stupidest Quidditch report he'd ever heard, Ron told himself that he'd been imagining things. Harry was fine. All the same, he thought he might just have a discreet word with Ginny when he saw her. Not that he was worried or anything. Just... It couldn't hurt.

---

For the second time in less than a month, Ron found himself standing in Ginny's bedroom doorway, a supplicant at the Oracle once more. She'd know if he'd done something wrong and help him to fix it. He just had to be careful he didn't give anything away.

"I won't be a minute," Ginny said, waving him into the room. He sat on the edge of her bed and watched her as she finished reading a very long roll of parchment. She gave a relieved sigh, rolled it neatly and set it aside carefully. "Finished. Took me weeks, but I think I'll get top marks for that." She turned to face Ron, a bright smile on her face. "So, what can I do for you this time?"

"I need to ask your advice about something. You're a girl, right?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Not much gets past you, does it?"

Ron made an impatient gesture. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, you're good at all this relationship stuff. Talking about feelings and things."

Ginny nodded agreeably. "Well, I'm probably a lot better at it than you are, Ron."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. Because, well, I have this friend, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Uhuh. A friend. Definitely not you."

Ron closed his eyes and sighed. "Forget it. I shouldn't have -"

"No! I'm sorry. Go on. You have this friend."

"Yeah. Anyway, this person's very inexperienced with, you know, sex."

"Well, it's definitely not you then, if even half the rumours I've heard are true."

"Ginny!"

"Right. Sorry. Friend who's a virgin. So what's the problem? What does he look like? Because I know a lot of girls who'd -"

"God, no! Seriously, just forget I said anything. How's the studying going?"

"Fine, and don't change the subject. Look, how about this. Try presenting it as a hypothetical situation." Ron stared at her blankly. "Tell it like you're telling me a story about them," Ginny clarified.

"Okay. There are these two people, right? One is -"

"Gilderoy and Sibyll."

"What?"

"Call them Gilderoy and Sibyll."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Makes it easier."

Ron shook his head. "Whatever. Anyway, Gilderoy is... You know what, let's call them A and B."

"If you like. Or you could you use their real names."

Ron sighed. "As I was saying, A is very experienced, but B might as well be a virgin. A wants B to set the pace in their relationship. But B's a bit..."

"Too slow? Stupid? Drunk? Frigid?"

"Unsure about the whole thing," Ron said with a quelling glare at his sister.

"You've just got to give her time, Ron. Let her make the first move."

"It's not me. And it's not like that." Actually, it was exactly like that, but there was no way he'd be telling Ginny that. "Anyway, B decided that they wanted to go ahead and, well -"

"Fuck like bunnies with A?" Ginny suggested helpfully.

"Yes. No. Maybe."

"Well, that's cleared that up, then."

"Look, I don't know if you can remember back to when you were still a virgin, but -"

"You realise I'm going to have to hurt you severely for that, don't you?"

Ron winced. "Fine. Just, can we sort this out first?" At Ginny's shrug, he continued, "So, B tells A that they're ready, but then they sort of freeze up and A has to sort of coax them... Look, that doesn't matter. What matters is that after a false start they..."

"Do the deed?"

"Sort of," Ron said with a sigh. "Anyway, the next morning, everything seems to be okay until they start talking, and then it all seems to go wrong."

Ginny nodded sagely. "She made you feel like shit for taking advantage of poor innocent little her, right?"

"It wasn't like that!"

"If you say so."

"I do. I - look, they said they were fine with it."

"Uhuh. And that's why you're here asking me for advice. Because everything's fine."

"Yes. I mean no." Ron sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Ginny seemed convinced he was talking about a girl, so Ron decided the best thing was to go with that, because he wasn't getting anywhere with the hypothetical thing, and A and B was just bloody confusing. "Okay," he said. "You're right. It's a girl I was with. She seemed really keen, then froze up. But like I said, the next morning she said she was fine with it, and that I could do it again if I wanted to. That she wouldn't mind. Or something like that, anyway." Ron couldn't really remember exactly what he'd said. He just knew it hadn't come out right.

Ginny winced. "Well, if you want my advice, here it is. Dump her."

"Dump who?"

"The girlfriend," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Ron felt something cold and heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. "What? Why?"

"Let's be honest, since Hermione moved out you've changed girlfriends more frequently than you change your socks. And you've never once asked me for advice about any of them. I don't know why this one's any different, but if it's because you think it might be serious, well..." Ginny sighed. "Look, I know the type. They blow hot and cold, and always seem to pick the nice blokes and make them feel like bastards." She snorted, shook her head and continued, "She really said, 'you can if you want to, I wouldn't mind'? Bloody hell, Ron, you deserve better than that. You don't need someone who's just playing stupid games."

"Fuck." Ron thought he was going to be sick. That wasn't what he'd done. Was it? More to the point, was that what Harry thought he'd done? He had to talk to him. Sort this out.

"Ron, you okay? You've gone really pale. Hang on a minute, I've got a Pepper-Up here."

Ginny flipped open her potions case and handed a slim phial to Ron. He swallowed its contents mechanically.

"Bloody hell, you really like her, don't you? Look, this is just my opinion. I could be completely wrong. You know me, jumping to conclusions. She might just be really shy or nervous or something. You should probably talk to her before you do anything."

Ron stood abruptly. "I've got to go. I'll see you later."

"But you haven't had lunch yet. Mum -"

"Tell her something came up, and I had to go." Ron slipped a finger under the chain that Harry had given him and muttered, "Marauder's Rest."

---


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Many thanks to my beta, Halo of Darkness, for all her hard work.

Chapter 5

---

Harry sat staring into the fire. He was wallowing. And he knew he was being totally unrealistic. It was going to take time - a lot of time - before Ron was completely comfortable with their relationship. Ron probably hadn't meant what he'd said to come out the way it had, but Harry couldn't shake the awful feeling that somehow Ron thought he had to offer himself to keep Harry happy. He didn't want him to feel that way. But sitting and moping about it wasn't helping anybody. Giving himself a mental shake, Harry glanced at his watch and decided that he might as well head over to the Manor. Draco wouldn't mind him arriving early.

The wards suddenly flared, warning him that someone had arrived by Portkey. Harry jumped up and shot out into the hall to see Ron standing there, looking pale and shaken.

"What's wrong? Is it the Burrow? Are you all right? Is anyone hurt? Fuck, Ron, what happened!"

"Everyone's fine. I need to talk to you," Ron said abruptly.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he felt his stomach plummet. This was it. Molly had said something, and Ron had decided that he was making a mistake. Well, he wasn't going to let him go without a fight. The fact that Ron had come straight to him had to mean something, right?

"Come and sit down," he said, leading Ron into the living room. As Harry sat down, a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses appeared on the coffee table in front of him. He sighed. As if things weren't bad enough, his control of his magic was getting shakier every day. He hadn't even thought about a drink, although he'd apparently wanted one. More than one, it seemed, seeing the size of the bottle he'd unconsciously conjured. He poured two drinks and offered one to Ron, who was still hovering nervously over him. Ron took the glass and emptied it in two swallows. "Sit down. Please," Harry repeated gently.

Ron exhaled heavily and dropped into the seat next to him.

"I was talking to Ginny and... I fucked up, didn't I? I didn't mean to. I'm not good with all this," Ron said with a vague gesture. "Talking about feelings and stuff, I mean. She was right. She didn't know she was, obviously, 'cause I couldn't really tell her. 'Cause I can't tell anyone. But I think that's what I was doing. I didn't mean it like that, though. I really didn't."

Harry blinked. Ron was obviously upset and agitated about something, but Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He opened his mouth to ask Ron to explain, but Ron started talking rapidly again before he could get a word out.

"I want you. You said you needed to know that. And I do. Christ, you've got no idea how much. But it's hard enough, wanting you like that, without having to... 'Cause every time I think I can do it, I get these thoughts in my head. And they won't go away and it fucking terrifies me. Every sick joke about shirt-lifters and wand-gobblers and perverts and not dropping the soap in the showers is right there and I can't. I just can't."

"It's okay, it's okay," Harry said quickly as he slipped an arm around Ron and pulled him into a hug. Ron gave a long, shuddering breath and buried his face against Harry's neck. Harry's mind was working furiously, trying to make sense of what Ron had said. Was he telling Harry he'd changed his mind about them? It had certainly sounded that way towards the end of his ramblings.

"Sorry, I... Sorry," Ron muttered. He put a hand on Harry's chest and pushed away gently. Harry released his hold and Ron sat up, scrubbing his hands over his face. Harry topped up their glasses and pressed one into Ron's hand.

"You've got nothing to apologise for, Ron."

"Yeah, I do. I didn't mean to say all that stuff. That wasn't what I was trying to say. It all just came out." Ron shrugged helplessly. His fingers were tapping nervously on the glass he was holding and he kept darting little glances at Harry and then looking away.

Harry waited for a moment, but when Ron didn't say anything more, Harry prompted, "Did something happen at the Burrow? Did someone say something that upset you or -"

"No, it was nothing like that." Ron raised his glass and took a gulp of firewhisky, then said, "This morning. You said we were okay, but I knew I'd said something wrong."

Harry sighed. He'd been right. "I'm sorry, Ron. I said I wouldn't push you. This is all my fault. You're not ready and I -"

"What? No!" Ron twisted in his seat to face Harry. "Bloody hell, this is exactly what Ginny was talking about."

"You told her?"

"Of course not, you pillock."

Harry couldn't help but smile, relieved that Ron seemed to be acting a little more normally.

"You got the wrong end of the stick this morning," Ron said. "But that was probably my fault. I tried to tell you how I feel about you, but I'm pants at all that girly stuff." Harry's eyebrows shot up, and Ron huffed exasperatedly. "I don't mean it like... Oh, sod it. Look, I don't know what I'm doing here, and quite honestly the idea of some of it scares the shit out of me. But that's probably because I've got no idea, right? And you don't want to push, 'cause you're being all bloody noble, so you're leaving it all up to me. And I tried, I really did, but it all went wrong even though I really wanted to. So I thought it'd be easier if you just did it. Took over, you know? That's what I was trying to say, but it came out wrong."

Ron was looking Harry in the eye and nodding encouragingly.

"Right," Harry said slowly, then raised his glass and started sipping at his whisky while he valiantly attempted to work out what the hell Ron was trying to say. It didn't sound as though he wanted to end things with Harry. In fact, it sounded like... He suddenly sat back and stared at Ron in shock.

"Are you telling me that you just want me to haul you up to the bedroom and get on with it?" Harry couldn't quite believe what he was saying. But Ron was nodding enthusiastically, a look of profound relief on his face.

"Finally! Yes. That's what I've been trying to say, but I've been making a right bollocks of it, apparently."

It was all too much. Harry tried to bite down a chuckle but it bubbled out and he collapsed against the back of the couch, giggling helplessly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped out desperately as he saw the hurt look on Ron's face. "I must have been driving you nuts."

"Too right," Ron agreed with a slow, wry smile.

"C'mere," Harry said as he leant forward. He put his hand on the back on Ron's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

"Weren't you supposed to be doing something today?" Ron asked several minutes later.

Harry's brain sluggishly acknowledged the question, and dragged itself away from all things Ron long enough to recall what day it was and what he was supposed to be doing. He groaned as he remembered.

"There's a birthday party at the Manor for one of the kids. Katie. She'll be eight. Draco's threatened to rip my lungs out if I don't show up. Apparently the kids will be disappointed if I'm not there."

It was his own fault. He always brought bags of stuff for them when he visited. Wheezes that were relatively safe, and a good selection of Honeydukes's wide range of sweets. And he might buy the odd toy or two. Draco scolded him, saying he was spoiling them, but Harry knew he was secretly pleased that Harry's visits provided such a bright spot for the children.

"Can't miss that, then," Ron said with a sigh.

"You could come with me. If you wanted to," Harry said, putting on his best pathetic look. Ron just laughed and shook his head.

"Won't work, mate. You know me and Malfoy don't get on that well."

That was an understatement. They still sniped at each other viciously, but maintained an armed truce in deference to Harry.

"Besides," Ron continued, "I Portkeyed out of Ginny's bedroom. Mum's probably already organised a search party. You know how she gets. I should go back and smooth things over."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harry said reluctantly. "It's just - I'm probably going to have to go away for a few days. I messed something up that Draco needs and I'm going to have to fix it, and..." He paused as a sudden thought struck him. "Tell you what. How about taking next weekend off? We could spend it together."

A slow smile lit Ron's face. "I'd like that. But what'll I tell the twins?"

"Just tell them I've asked you to help me with some business this weekend. They won't say no, not if they know what's good for them. And if they get difficult, just tell your mum you've been feeling a bit tired lately. She'll have a word with them," Harry said with an evil grin.

Ron sniggered. "She's already been getting stuck into them, so Ginny reckons."

"There you are then. Done. I've got some friends that I'd really like you to meet. We'll go there for dinner Friday night. And I haven't taken you to the club, yet."

Ron looked hesitant for a moment, but then nodded decisively. "Yeah, sounds great."

Harry glanced at his watch. He was late.

"I'd better get going," Ron said as he stood up. Harry pushed himself off the couch and followed Ron out into the hallway. "See you later, then."

"Wait."

Harry wrapped his arms around Ron and kissed him passionately. Then he took a step back. "Till Friday."

Ron smiled. Then with a soft 'pop' he was gone.

---

Draco glared as Harry sheepishly apologised for his late arrival, but Harry was almost instantly tackled by a horde of children, saving him from a lecture. The birthday girl loved the doll and the mountain of accessories Harry had bought her.

Draco had been horrified when the doll started crying, and his eyes grew rounder and rounder as Harry described all the other life-like attributes of the toy. Apparently there was no magical equivalent of the electronic baby dolls Muggle girls were so fond of.

Narcissa instantly confiscated all the other bags that Harry had brought with him, telling the disappointed children that they could share their contents later. Harry was quietly relieved. The children were excited enough without eating any more sweets. They'd be bouncing off the walls if they got any more sugar.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Harry found himself counting heads at one point. He knew for a fact that there were only ten children under the age of eleven living at the Manor, but Harry could have sworn it seemed like many, many more at times.

Finally it was time for the birthday cake, and as the children sat and ate, the adults had time to sit down and have a very welcome drink.

"Thank you," Harry said as he gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Narcissa Malfoy. She gave him an amused look. "I don't know how you do it, Narcissa. A couple of hours and I'm worn out."

"You children have no stamina," she said as she took the seat next to Harry. He just rolled his eyes and sipped his tea.

"So, how are..."

There was a loud crash. A red-faced Tonks had apparently tripped over a doll's pram, and Neville and Remus had rushed to her aid. Narcissa sighed and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

"The Metamorphmagus gift is a trial to young Nymphadora. Her mother despaired of her as a young girl. One wonders how she managed to survive so long, given her choice of career."

"It never seems to be an issue when she's working," Harry said with a grin. "She's a Senior Auror now. Trains the recruits, and they all have a healthy respect for her."

"Of that I have no doubt."

"So, any problems? Anything you need?"

The Ministry had been thwarted in its efforts to confiscate the Malfoy estate because Draco had been able to prove he wasn't Marked when the estate had passed to him. Voldemort, however, had plundered their vaults with Lucius's tacit permission, and by the time Draco had taken possession, a great deal of the Malfoy wealth was gone. Narcissa had still been determined to take in as many of the homeless children who'd been infected during Greyback's rampages as she could find, however. When Harry had learnt of this, he'd insisted that Narcissa take one of the Black family vaults, arguing that it was hers by right. He'd also set up a vault to finance Draco's research into the Wolfsbane potion. He knew that neither of them spent a Sickle of that money on themselves, despite his protests that it was for them, too.

Narcissa shook her head. "Thank you, Harry, but we have everything we need. Although..." She hesitated a moment, then continued, "Draco has spoken to you about the difficulty of procuring certain potions ingredients?"

Harry nodded. "It's all under control," he said, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Good."

Loud laughter from the children's table drew their attention for a moment. Tonks was putting on a show, morphing herself into various people and turning herself odd colours, and the children were laughing uproariously.

"How can they be so happy, Narcissa? It's like they haven't got a care in the world."

"Children are remarkably resilient creatures," Narcissa said softly. "They need to be warm and safe, have enough to eat, and know they're loved and wanted. That they have a home and people who care for them." She gave Harry a knowing look, and he conceded the point with a nod.

"But still. What they've seen... Their parents killed or abandoning them, and being bitten..."

Narcissa nodded. "In many ways, the curse of lycanthropy makes it easier for them. Particularly those whose parents abandoned them. We are pack. I am their Alpha, their mother, their protector. They belong to me in a way they could never belong to their parents. It's harder for the older children, of course."

Narcissa had also taken in five teenagers, who were definitely earning their pocket money today as they ran around, organising games and keeping an eye on the younger children.

"Remus helps enormously, especially with the older boys. He's such a strong Alpha male that they can confidently challenge his authority, knowing that he will put them firmly back in their place. They need that security."

Harry found this glimpse of pack dynamics fascinating. He quietly studied Remus; the mild-mannered academic, always ready with a quick smile and an understanding ear, a definite peacemaker, who at that moment looked like he was gently reassuring Neville about something.

"You'd never think it to look at him, would you?" Narcissa said softly, as though reading Harry's thoughts. He acknowledged her comment with a smile. "And of course he's a wonderful teacher. The children adore him."

The children, of course, weren't allowed to go to school with 'normal' children. Younger magical children were generally homeschooled anyway, so they really didn't notice any difference. But for the teenagers, some of whom had already started attending Hogwarts, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Narcissa had simply viewed this as another challenge. She'd turned part of one wing of the Manor into a school, and Remus had actively recruited teaching staff, having surprisingly little trouble filling the positions. Word of the school spread through the werewolf community and twenty-two children currently attended each day, from first years through to those taking NEWTs. The school could not officially exist under the current political climate, of course, so the children sat their OWLs and NEWTs as 'independently educated' students.

Griselda Marchbanks, Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, had turned out to be a bit of a rebel, on the quiet. She'd arrived at the Manor just after lunch one day, a few weeks after the school had opened, and informed a startled Narcissa that she'd come to inspect the school - which did not exist, of course. She'd questioned Narcissa extensively, approved the staff and textbooks, observed one of the classes in operation, and then pronounced herself satisfied. She'd informed Narcissa that independent students could schedule their own exams, thus avoiding having to sit them when on a day when they were, perhaps, feeling a little under the weather. Over afternoon tea, she'd given Narcissa her private Floo address, and told her that she was available at any time should there be any problems with the children's education. Harry had a great deal of respect for Professor Marchbanks.

"All right, everyone," Narcissa said loudly as she stood up. "Time for some games."

The children cheered as the adults bit back groans, plastered smiles on their faces and joined the fray.

By the time the tired children were rounded up for baths and bedtime, at the end of a very long and fun-filled day, Harry was worn out and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. But he needed to talk to Draco. Harry had only managed to find one moonstone importer capable of providing the quantities Draco required, and they wanted to charge him gemstone-quality prices. Harry could have easily afforded to pay what they wanted, but he knew they thought they had him over a barrel, and were quite frankly ripping him off. He'd told them that, in no uncertain terms, and was now faced with the prospect of finding an alternate source of supply. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. With good reason.

---

Four days after Katie's birthday party, Harry Apparated into the flat he shared with Ron in Diagon Alley. He was footsore, exhausted, and heartily sick of gem traders and miners. In fact, if he never saw another moonstone again, he'd be a happy man.

Harry's little chat with Draco concerning the supply of moonstones for the Wolfsbane potion had gone as well as could be expected. As a consequence of their discussion - although Harry wasn't sure that sitting there nodding while Draco ranted at him, disparaging his intelligence for a solid hour, qualified as a discussion - Harry had spent the following four days Apparating all over the globe. He'd finally given up his fruitless efforts at negotiation and bought out a small moonstone mining company in Australia. The first shipment would arrive within six weeks, with regular monthly deliveries after that. They could sell the excess, making a tidy profit, and Harry was cautiously optimistic about how things had turned out. He had, however, taken the precaution of bringing several pounds of moonstone with him when he left Australia, which he had delivered personally before coming home to sleep for a week. He hoped it would keep Draco off his back for a while.

So Harry was less than pleased to find Seamus and Dean sitting in the living room with Ron. He sat and had a drink with them for the sake of politeness before pleading exhaustion and heading into his bedroom. A minute or so later there was a tap on his bedroom door.

"Harry?"

"Hey. Sorry, mate, been a long few days and I'm knackered. You been okay?"

"Yeah. I'm really looking forward to having the weekend off, though," Ron said with a wink. "Anyway, I just put my head round the door to see if you were okay." Harry nodded. He knew he had a stupid smile on his face, but he didn't care. "Sleep well, mate. I'll try and keep the noise down."

---

Harry didn't wake up until well after lunch the next day. He was a little annoyed that he'd slept so late into the day, as he had a few things he needed to do before Ron closed the shop for the night. He quickly showered and dressed, and made his way out of Diagon Alley.

Three hours later, he let himself back into the flat and headed into the kitchen, biting back a curse when he found Ron sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea with the twins.

"Don't you two ever bloody go home?" he said as he opened the cold cupboard and pulled out a Butterbeer.

"Just checking in with our baby brother, here -"

"- and making sure he's got everything he needs for his weekend of debauchery."

Harry almost dropped his drink as he gaped at the twins in shock.

"No need to look so surprised, Harry. 'Going away on business' my arse."

"A weekend of booze and birds where nobody knows who you are, more like."

"Not before time, either. When was the last time you got some, Harry?"

"People'll start to talk."

Harry was still feeling tired from his four days of long-distance Apparition, time zone changes, odd food and too little sleep, and was in no mood for a comedy double act. He felt a flash of anger, and the cups and saucers on the kitchen table suddenly started rattling about. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

There was complete silence for a moment, then one twin said, "Not that they'd say anything about you, mate."

"Not where there was any chance you could hear them, anyway."

"'Cause you're seriously fucking scary, sometimes."

The twins shared one of their looks. "Anyway, we just dropped by to tell Ron that Lee's covering for him tomorrow -"

"- and to tell you two to have lots of anonymous fun."

"Not that you wouldn't."

"Not at all."

"You could have invited us along, though."

"Every sodding weekend is booze and birds with you two," Ron said. "Although if Angelina and Katie get wind of some of your tricks -"

"Fuck! Keep it down, Ron. Never know who's listening!"

Harry had had enough. He dumped the half-empty bottle in the rubbish bin and turned to Ron. "Ready to go?"

"Definitely," Ron said, glaring at his brothers. "Just let me grab my bag." He stood up, then added pointedly, "You've packed, yeah?"

"'Course," Harry lied, patting his allegedly shrunken-bag holding pocket.

"We'll be off then," one of the twins said. Harry ushered them out to the hall, smiled dutifully at their off-colour farewells and breathed a sigh of relief as they Apparated away.

Ron appeared in the hallway a moment later, and they headed out to Muggle London in silence. In fact, it wasn't until they were walking down the hallway to Blaise's flat that Harry allowed himself to relax.

"You looked like you were going to have a heart attack," Ron said with a smirk.

"I almost did. It didn't seem to bother you one bit. I thought they'd found out."

"Nah. I know how their minds work. They think everybody's the same as them. Booze and birds is all they think about, apart from jokes." He shook his head as he chuckled. "Rattling the cups was a nice touch. Scared the shit out of them."

"That was an accident. I got angry."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Happen much, does it?" he asked casually.

"Too often, just lately. Hermione's wedding can't come soon enough."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Is it just when you get upset, or angry?"

"So far," Harry said shortly. Ron seemed to understand that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Should have seen your face," he said with a grin.

"I'm glad you found it amusing," Harry said as he stopped at Blaise's front door.

"Very. Only reason I keep you around."

"Is that right?" Harry said as he moved closer. He put his hands on Ron's hips and gave a little push. Ron quickly took a half step to regain his balance and his back hit Blaise's front door.

"Might not be the only reason," Ron said. "You're not a bad kisser."

"Only not bad?" Harry said as he pressed himself against Ron. "I should probably get some more practice then."

Ron slipped his arms around Harry's neck as Harry leant in and kissed him. There was a sudden blur of motion, and Harry found himself lying on top of Ron as they floated inches from the ground. Ron hadn't seemed to notice as he continued to kiss Harry. Harry opened his eyes and peered sideways, to see an immaculately shod foot tapping impatiently near his head.

"Some people, boring, pedestrian plebs that they are, actually knock at the door and simply stand and wait to be admitted. I hear your shocked gasps, but I assure you, it's nothing but the truth. And as inspiring as this little tableau is, the neighbours really don't need the free show."

Harry had started giggling, which set Ron off, and they were laughing helplessly by the time Harry climbed off Ron and dragged them both to their feet. Blaise pulled Harry into a hug and whispered, "I'm so happy for you, sweetie," before releasing him and giving Ron a hug. "Hurt him and I'll rip your heart out," he hissed into Ron's ear before releasing him.

"Thanks for the cushioning charm," Harry said sheepishly.

"Oh, that wasn't me. Your magic must be as protective of him as you are."

"Zabini?" Ron was gaping in shock as he stared at Blaise, who was clad in a slinky black dress and stiletto heels. "But you're dead, aren't you?"

"It's a long story, Ron. I met Blaise in a Muggle club just after the war -"

"And he'll tell you all about it later, so why don't you two make yourselves comfortable. I'll get us some drinks. Dinner won't be long and Martin should -"

"Martin should what?"

"Perfect timing, darling," Blaise said as he walked over to embrace the new arrival.

"He looks like Malfoy's twin brother!" Ron hissed into Harry's ear. Harry rolled his eyes, but looking at Martin Bonavere, he could definitely see the resemblance. Both were tall, slim, blond and arrogant looking. But Martin was a Squib, so while there was possibly a distant family connection somewhere, he was definitely more at home in the Muggle world than Draco could ever be.

"Harry! Good to see you, mate," Martin said, pulling Harry into a hug. He turned to Ron, and Harry said hurriedly, "This is Ron Weasley. Ron, Martin Bonavere." Martin shook Ron's hand and looked him up and down appraisingly.

"Well," he drawled, a knowing smile on his face. "This certainly explains a lot about your choice of er, dance partners, Harry."

"Martin," Harry said, a note of warning in his voice. Blaise stepped in and made a shooing motion with his hands.

"You're cluttering up my hallway. Sit down now, the lot of you, and I'll get us some drinks."

Once Blaise had finished playing host, he perched himself on the arm of Martin's chair and said, "So, I'm dying of curiosity here, Harry. How did you two finally get together?"

Harry grinned at him. "I took Ron back to the house, and we talked."

"That's it? You talked? That's all you did?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Harry said.

Blaise stared at him for a moment then glanced at Ron, who was finding his drink to be unusually fascinating, and said, "Uhuh. Well, I had heard your oral skills were very persuasive." He gave Harry a knowing smirk when Ron nearly choked on his drink, his face going bright red. "Very agile tongue," he added.

Harry glared at Blaise. "Shouldn't you be checking on dinner? Something might be burning."

"Everything's fine, sweetie. Talking to you is much more entertaining."

"I can make sure something's burning."

"Spoilsport," Blaise pouted, and Martin rolled his eyes.

"So, Ron," Martin said, "How much has Harry told you about us?"

Ron glanced at Harry, who said, "You know I can't say anything in Diagon Alley, and we haven't had that much time on our own at the house. I told him we were going to dinner with some very good friends, and that you were my business partners, and that I'd explain once we got here." He twisted in his seat until he was facing Ron. "It all started when I met Blaise in a Muggle gay club. I was - well, I was pretty messed up, and I'd had far too much to drink and literally tripped over him. He recognised me straight away, hauled me out of there and brought me back here. He sobered me up, let me cry on his shoulder and then read me the riot act. Anyway, very long story short, the company that owned that particular club was in receivership, so I formed a partnership with Blaise and Martin, who was the manager of the club at the time, and we bought it."

"Harry bought it," Martin said.

"No. The partnership bought it," Harry insisted. "Martin still runs the place, and Blaise takes care of PR - Public Relations," he clarified when Ron looked confused. "At the moment, we're planning to renovate. There's a large storage area that's completely unused. So we're thinking of converting it to a piano bar, something a bit more upmarket, you know, and also completely update the main club; refurbish it, modernise all the electronics and so on, with the intention of opening five days a week, initially, maybe more if there's interest. It's currently only open Thursday to Sunday, you see. But as I say, we're still in the planning stages at the moment."

"I think we'll do well," Martin said. "We're unique, you see. The only magic-friendly gay club in the country. Harry'll show you what I mean when you come to look at the place tomorrow. There's a dedicated Apparition point, and a Wizarding foyer. My sister, Rosie, takes care of that bit. She's a Squib, same as me, so she understands things from the magical as well as the Muggle side."

"Actually, you might be interested in talking to Martin about our plans for the business. I'm useless at that stuff." Harry shook his head as Martin began to protest. "You know I am. I'm providing the capital, and that's the extent of my business knowledge. Same thing as I did with the twins, Ron. You're pretty good at all that stuff, though. The twins are doing brilliantly now, and even they admit that it's down to you."

"Yeah, but it's not exactly the same thing, Harry."

"Actually, I'd like to hear more about the shops, Ron," Martin said. "Harry's told me a bit about your brothers, and it sounds to me like you had your work cut out trying to organise them."

"Great," Harry said with a grin as he jumped to his feet. "I'll give Blaise a hand getting dinner ready while Ron tells you all about it."

Harry glanced at Martin, who gave him a quick nod, then dropped a kiss on Ron's lips before dragging Blaise out into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, Blaise started to protest that dinner would be at least another half an hour, but Harry quelled him with a look and stood listening as Martin asked Ron to tell him about the joke shops. Ron started off hesitantly, but after a minute or so he started talking more freely. Harry stood frozen in the doorway as their conversation became more and more animated, until he finally breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes as he felt a kiss on his cheek, to see Blaise looking at him with a worried expression on his face.

"You okay, sweetie? You look worn out - I thought you'd fallen asleep in the doorway," Blaise said as he handed Harry a glass of wine.

Harry smiled at him as he pushed himself away from the wall. "I'll be fine. It's just been a very long week."

"You really think this is a good idea?"

"Definitely. I think Martin would be the perfect mentor for Ron. I just hoped Ron would get on with him."

Blaise nodded. "He does have a lot of experience with managing people, and he's very, very good at it. Actually, he's very good at a lot of things," Blaise added with a smirk.

"There has to be some compensation for living with an old man, I suppose," Harry said. He ducked as Blaise swatted him with the tea towel. "Watch it! I almost spilled my drink!"

"He's not that much older, you cheeky sod. And anyway, why did you think Ron wouldn't get on with him? Everybody loves Martin."

"Because he looks like Draco's older brother. And Ron still hates Draco with a passion."

"Ah. The Weasleys and the Malfoys have hated each other for centuries, Harry. Draco changing sides during the War isn't going to change that."

"No. I kind of worked that out for myself."

Blaise took a sip of his wine, then said, "So, when are you intending to mention this plan of yours to Ron?"

"Not for a while, yet. I'm taking it one step at a time. I've still got a lot of work to do on building a relationship with him. As lovers, Blaise, not just best mates," he said as he saw the look of disbelief that crossed Blaise's face.

"Well, it's not as if you need to get to know him, is it?" Blaise said. "But I do know what you mean. You're moving things to a new level and there's bound to be an adjustment period."

"Exactly. I want us to spend time just being together as a couple. I want him to be comfortable being in a relationship with me. And when the time's right, I'll do my best to nudge him in the right direction."

Blaise grimaced. "Just because he's got a good head for business doesn't mean that he'll want to run one of his own. He might have something completely different in mind."

"I know that, Blaise. I just want him to realise how talented he is at this stuff. He doesn't seem to have much confidence in himself. He's told me he's never really thought about what he'd like to do, and I want to give him the space to work that out for himself. And I suppose I feel guilty, too. He should have spent his seventh year at Hogwarts, playing Quidditch and having fun and taking his NEWTs. He wanted to try out as Keeper for the Cannons. God knows they could have done a lot worse. But instead I dragged him along with me. It was dangerous, and it was my job, not his. And it's my fault that he nearly died when he cracked his skull open in Diagon Alley. No club'll even try him out as Keeper now, not after that sort of head injury," Harry said bitterly.

"Don't you dare start wallowing again," Blaise said sharply. "Shit happens, Harry. It's a fact of life. You deal with it and move on. I'm not saying you shouldn't help Ron get set up if you can. All I'm saying is that he might have different ideas about what he wants to do than you have. Trying to push him in the direction you think would be best for him is only going to make him feel manipulated." He glanced over Harry's shoulder and then shrugged.

"I'm not going to push him," Harry said. "I just want to make sure that he knows he has options. I owe him more than I can ever repay, Blaise. But that stupid Weasley pride gets in the bloody way. I love him. I don't think he realises how important he is to me. I'd give him the world, if the stubborn bastard would let me." Harry jumped as arms slid around his waist and he felt a solid warmth at his back.

"The stubborn bastard knows you would," Ron said. Harry banished his glass of wine and crossed his arms over Ron's, letting his head drop back onto Ron's shoulder as Blaise made good his escape into the living room.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you're a complete pillock, but I knew that already. I did what I wanted to do, Harry. What I needed to do. There's nothing for you to feel guilty about."

Harry turned his head and Ron leant in and captured his lips. Harry turned in his arms and they stood kissing in the kitchen until Blaise bustled back in very noisily, Martin in tow.

"All right, you two, break it up," Blaise said. He handed Martin a couple of bottles and shooed them all into the dining area, then with a bit of deft wandwork soon had dinner on the table. Martin opened a bottle of champagne, and dinner was a lively affair. Ron and Martin talked almost non-stop, and Harry found it hard to stop grinning like a loon.

Blaise took Ron into the living room with their coffee and brandy after dinner, saying he'd done his bit and Ron was guest of honour, so Harry and Martin should clean up. Martin started to pick up the plates and Harry shook his head.

"Sit down, mate. Blaise is giving us a minute on our own to talk." With a gesture the table was cleared. "There you are, all done, cleaned and put away," Harry said with a smile. "So, you and Ron had a chat about the club?"

"You mean you weren't standing in the doorway, eavesdropping?" Martin said, grinning as Harry's face heated up. "Yeah, he told me about the shops, and then I told him about the club. I tell you what, a couple of weeks, tops, and he could be running the place like he was born doing it," Martin assured Harry. "He started making suggestions for improvements once I'd filled him in on the place, and we tossed around a few ideas. And I mean useful, practical suggestions. He spotted the same potential problems that I did. He's wasted working for his brothers. It was good experience, but I reckon he's ready to move on, now."

"That's what I think, too," Harry agreed.

"Just give him time to work out what he's interested in," Martin cautioned. "Don't rush him." He took a sip of his drink and then said, "You've got yourself a winner there, mate. I'd hang on tight to this one."

"Oh, I intend to. Took me years to get him, and he's not getting away."

"Yeah, Blaise has filled me in a bit on this formerly unattainable bloke of yours. He didn't tell me he was a redhead, though like I said, I should have guessed, eh?"

"I assume he knows there've been other blokes, Martin, but I'd rather the subject wasn't raised in front of him."

"I was just teasing you, mate. I won't say another word, honest."

Harry gave him a grin, and said, "Thanks for talking to him about all this stuff."

"You don't have to thank me, Harry. The man knows what he's talking about, and I'm more than happy to offer whatever help I can if he ever needs it. He strikes me as a hard worker with a good head on his shoulders. I like him." He paused, then said, "Does he know about the Lily Pad? I didn't mention it, just in case."

"He knows about the lycanthropy outreach stuff. I haven't told him about anything else, though. It hasn't really come up."

"You should probably tell him. He doesn't strike me as the sort who'd take kindly to you keeping secrets from him."

Harry snorted softly. "You're dead right there," he said. "But until we got together I wasn't sure how he'd take it. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow at the club."

A sudden shout of laughter from Blaise had Harry and Martin sharing a glance. "We'd better get in there," Martin said. "You know what Blaise is like once he's had a few." Harry nodded ruefully and topped up their brandy glasses.

They walked into the living room to find Blaise giggling madly and Ron looking totally stunned, his face bright red.

"Oh, God," Harry groaned. "Blaise, leave the poor sod alone. What have you been saying to him?"

"Just filling in a few blank spots, darling. You know my views on the importance of a good education. Speaking of which, Tris gave me something for you." Blaise hopped up and grabbed a videotape from under the bar. He handed it to Harry, saying, "Straight from Rob's technical ministrations to your hot little hands."

"That's a vid-e-o tape, isn't it?" Ron pronounced carefully. "I've seen them at Hermione's parents' house. She gave Dad one once, but it sort of unwound and there was miles of brown tape everywhere. There weren't any pictures on it, though. We looked."

"You need a special machine to see them," Blaise said. "Muggles are very ingenious, you know."

"So what's on that one?" Ron asked.

"Oh, it's very educational," Blaise said, nodding seriously at Ron. "You'd learn a lot. In fact, I could pop it in now, let you -"

"No! Thanks, but no, thanks." Harry said quickly. He glared at Blaise, who grinned unrepentantly at him. Harry banished the tape to the house with a gesture. Blaise squeaked and Harry grinned evilly at him.

"Bastard," Blaise muttered. "Doesn't that bother you?" he demanded, looking at Ron. Ron looked confused for a moment, and then looked at Harry questioningly.

"Blaise is almost completely Muggle now. There's no risk of anyone finding out from him. I work closely with him and Martin sometimes, so it was just easier if they knew."

Ron nodded, then smiled at Blaise. "Harry's always been something special; the rules have never applied to him. I'm used to him doing that sort of stuff now."

"You must have nerves of steel. I'd demand danger money, sweetie, I really would," Blaise said to Ron. "Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted, I was telling you all about my narrow escape from betrothal at wandpoint..."

Harry watched as Ron laughed and joked with Blaise and Martin, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were two of his closest friends, and despite Blaise's casual assurance that they'd all get on like a house on fire, he'd had his doubts. Ron tended to judge on first impressions, and with Martin looking like a Malfoy, and Blaise - just basically being Blaise, flamboyant and unapologetically over the top, it could have been a disaster. But they were all relaxed, chatting as though they'd known each other for years.

It seemed no time at all before Martin was regretfully announcing that it was getting late and that they had to go. Martin's oldest sister had opened the club so that he could have dinner with Harry and Ron, but he'd promised her that he and Blaise would be back before 10.30.

"So, we'll see you two tomorrow afternoon?" Martin said as he saw them off. "You can have a tour of the club, then maybe we can have dinner at that Italian restaurant that's just opened up over the road. I've heard a couple of people say that the food's really good there. Then you two can put on your glad rags and Ron can see the place in action."

Ron nodded and Harry said, "Sounds great. See you about three." Then he slipped an arm around Ron and with a gentle 'pop' they were gone.

---

Harry made coffee while Ron wandered into the living room. When Harry brought the coffee through, Ron was standing by the shelves, looking at the DVDs and videotapes. Harry put the coffee down and walked over to Ron, who looked vaguely defensive as he said, "Why didn't you want Blaise to show me that tape?"

Harry sighed in resignation. He didn't want to deal with this right now. "You don't really understand the Muggle world that well, Ron, and you definitely don't understand the gay scene. The program on the tape's a bit - well, the way they behave -"

Ron burst out laughing. "So it is porn, then. I thought it probably was. And what? You're worried that I'll be offended? Or it'll put me off or something?" He shook his head and smiled fondly at Harry. "Oh, Harry. You've never been on any of the more adventurous binges with the twins and their mates, have you? I think there's very little that would shock me any more, trust me on this."

Harry wasn't so sure about that, but simply said, "Fine, okay. But not tonight. I spent most of this week Apparating around the world, and I still haven't caught up with my sleep yet. And tomorrow's going to be a late night. You can watch it on Sunday if you really want to, okay?"

Ron nodded and sat down on the couch. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, then said, "I've seen some Muggle porn, you know. Went with Seamus and Dean and some of their mates to a Muggle club that showed it. Didn't seem to have much of a story to it. Basically everyone just got their kit off and got stuck in. There were tits and arses everywhere. Is that what those tapes are like?"

"No. There actually is a story. They just throw the sex in on top of it. And it's probably not as graphic as you've seen at a porn theatre. Not a lot of tits, either, although I think there might be one scene with a lesbian couple. Didn't pay that much attention." Ron looked blankly at him, so Harry explained, "Gay women call themselves lesbians."

Ron's eyes widened. "Wow! Women do that? Of course women do that. But..." He shook his head slowly and his brow furrowed. "How do they do it? I mean, what do they do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have a clue; you've probably got a better idea than me. Anything I know I got from those really embarrassing classes in fifth year and what I've heard from you lot in the dorm when you were all going on about girls and how far they'd let you go."

Ron looked at Harry in surprise. "You mean you've never been with a girl? Ever? I always thought that you and Ginny... I mean, I know she's my sister, but she's never been backwards in coming forwards, if you know what I mean. Knows what she wants and goes all out until she gets it. And she was pretty set on getting you."

"Nope. There's only one Weasley I ever wanted like that, and it wasn't Ginny."

"I'm actually really pleased to hear that," Ron said with a grin.

Their gazes locked, and Harry felt arousal coil low in his stomach as he stared into Ron's eyes. He tilted his head slightly and said, "I want to take you to bed."

Ron nodded slowly, and followed Harry out of the living room and up the stairs. As Harry entered the bedroom the curtains drew themselves, the fire blazed up, the duvet folded itself back and the candles sprang to life. Ron gave a nervous laugh and muttered, "Show off." Harry shot him a grin and then casually began to strip. Ron's eyes widened and he swallowed hard as Harry stood next to the bed, naked, and smiled at him.

"Come here, Ron," Harry said. Ron started fumbling with his shirt buttons as he walked towards Harry, and jumped when Harry gently batted his hands away. "Let me," he said softly as he finished unbuttoning Ron's shirt. He slid his hands under the open shirt, running them slowly over Ron's chest and shoulders until the shirt slipped off to puddle on the floor. Ron shivered.

"Cold?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head. "Good." Harry leant in and Ron parted his lips. Harry felt the warmth of Ron's breath as he lightly panted, and he waited a few moments before brushing their lips together. Ron let out a shuddering breath as Harry slipped his hand behind Ron's head and kissed him. Ron immediately wrapped his arms around Harry and deepened the kiss. Harry rested a hand on Ron's hip for a moment before sliding it between their bodies and unbuttoning Ron's jeans. He deliberately brushed his fingers over Ron's hardening cock, and Ron gasped into his mouth. Then he slipped his hands under the waistband and eased Ron's trousers down over his hips.

Ron froze for a moment, and then broke the kiss. Before Harry could react, Ron toed off his shoes and kicked off his trousers, a look of determination on his face. Then he gave Harry a hesitant smile. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around Ron and kissed him passionately.

Lying on the bed, his body pressed against a hard, naked Ron was a wonderful thing, Harry decided. But he really was extraordinarily tired, so he decided to keep things simple. He summoned a handful of the vanilla oil he favoured and slipped his hand between them again. Ron released a shuddering breath and slammed his mouth against Harry's as he began thrusting into their joined hands.

Neither of them lasted long, and when Ron slumped onto his back, spent, Harry propped himself up on one elbow and just looked at him, smiling as he saw the wide grin on Ron's face.

"All right?"

"Brilliant," Ron said softly.

Harry leant in and kissed him. And then yawned widely. Ron slipped an arm under his neck and pulled Harry close.

"How about cleaning us up, then you can get some sleep," Ron said. A moment later they were clean and dry, snuggled under the duvet in each other's arms. Harry extinguished the candles, leaving the room dark apart from the gentle glow from the fire. He was just drifting off when he heard:

"Why does Blaise wear women's clothes?"

"What? Um... He doesn't always wear them. He just likes to dress up when he's going out. He says they make him feel sexy."

"Oh," Ron said, "Do many blokes do that then?"

"Some. Not that many. Go to sleep, Ron."

"Okay."

The room was quiet again, apart from the crackle of the flames. Harry closed his eyes.

"Do you think that those lesbian girls like to dress up as men sometimes, then?"

"Dunno," Harry mumbled.

"Wouldn't be the same, I don't suppose. And girls wear trousers and things, anyway. I mean, Ginny -"

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you more than anything in the world, but I'm going to have to kill you if you don't shut up and let me sleep."

"Okay. You're cute when you're all sleepy and grumpy, you know."

Harry couldn't help smiling as he felt Ron nuzzle his hair for a moment, and then kiss him.

"G'night, mate," Ron said, and within seconds, or so it seemed, his breathing quieted and evened out, and he was asleep. Harry snorted softly as he settled down to sleep, nestled into the solid warmth of his lover.

---

Take a moment to let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

---

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He felt groggy and it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He was alone, and Ron's side of the bed was cold. He fumbled about on the bedside cabinet for his watch, saw that it was 12.30 p.m. and swore under his breath. He shoved his feet into his slippers and shrugged on his dressing gown, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, headed downstairs to find Ron. He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, and found Ron and Dobby sitting chatting at the table. Dobby spotted him first, and flung himself at Harry's legs so fast he almost toppled both of them to the floor.

"Harry Potter! Dobby and Winky is so sorry we was not here last night when you and your Wheezy came home."

"That's fine, Dobby. Ron and I can take care of ourselves." Dobby's face fell, and Harry quickly added, "Sometimes. Sometimes we can take care of ourselves, if you and Winky have other things to do. You're entitled to time off, we discussed this, remember?"

Dobby nodded violently, and Harry gently loosened the house-elf's grasp on his legs and made his way over to Ron.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead," Ron said with a smile as Harry leant down and dropped a kiss on his lips. "Dobby and I were just discussing lunch. I found some more shepherd's pie and chips in the cold cupboard, but -"

"Dobby should be making lunch for Harry Potter and his Wheezy!" Dobby protested.

Harry slumped into a kitchen chair and said, "Dobby, can I have some coffee, please?"

The house-elf immediately went into a flurry of activity, and in moments Harry and Ron had mugs of coffee placed in front of them. Harry sipped at his gratefully.

"Dobby, Ron and I really appreciate the fact that you and Winky prepared all those meals for us. We'd really like it if you kept the freezer stocked with them. That way, you and Winky won't have to worry about keeping fresh food in the house, except for yourselves. You know we won't be living here for a while yet, and I don't expect you to know in advance when we'll be here; we don't even know that ourselves."

Dobby nodded solemnly. "Dobby should have thought of that. But is Harry Potter sure?"

"The meals are wonderful, Dobby, and we really enjoyed the ones we've had so far."

Dobby nodded happily, then vanished with a small pop. Harry groaned and took a slurp of his coffee. He looked over to see Ron grinning at him.

"What are you so chirpy about?" Harry grouched.

"Just happy to see you, my little ray of sunshine," Ron said.

Harry snorted into his coffee and said, "Sorry, love. Just let me finish this coffee and hopefully I'll wake up a bit more."

"Why don't you have a shower and get dressed? That'll wake you up."

Ron's words jogged Harry's memory. Ron seemed to be in a good mood so, hoping for the best, Harry got to his feet, picked up his coffee and said, "You've just reminded me. Grab your coffee; I've got something to show you."

Harry led Ron back to the bedroom. He opened a door in the far corner of the room, switched on the light and ushered Ron in. The small walk-in wardrobe had been magically expanded; there was a full-length mirror on the wall opposite the door, and identical drawer space, shelving and hanging space on each side.

"Bloody hell, this is enormous," Ron said as he looked around.

"Yeah, well, I went shopping yesterday, so I had to expand it. The left hand side is my stuff, the right is yours," Harry said nervously. He hurried on before Ron could interrupt, "And before you say anything, this is necessary. We can't ferry clothes backwards and forwards between the flat and the house. It'd be too suspicious. I already had your measurements from when I bought you that stuff for your birthday, so they should all fit. Just think of this as a few extra birthday presents. Besides, you're going to need Muggle clothes. And I saw some things that'd look really good on you, so I thought..." He snapped his mouth shut, aware that he'd started babbling. Ron could be so touchy about this sort of thing, and Harry was half-regretting his impulsive shopping spree.

Ron ran his eye over the clothes on the hangers, opened all the drawers, poked at the row of shoes, and then turned around to face Harry. He was relieved to see that Ron didn't look angry. He didn't look happy either, though.

Harry said warily, "You're upset with me, aren't you?"

Ron sighed, then wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him into a hug. "No, I'm really not, though I should be, you know. I'm not a bloody dress-up doll, and I'm quite capable of buying clothes for myself. But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

"I just want to -"

"You just want to give me the world, right?"

Harry nodded. Ron slipped a hand under Harry's chin and tilted his face up so he could look him in the eye. "Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you. And you're right; I am going to need Muggle stuff. But don't do this again, Harry. If you think I need something, talk to me about it. And if I think I need something that I can't get myself, I'll tell you, okay?"

"Okay. I promise. I just... I love you, Ron."

"I know you do, Harry, I know."

---

After a late, leisurely lunch, Harry Side-Along Apparated Ron into the neat alleyway next to the club.

"What if a Muggle wanders down here and sees someone Apparating?" Ron asked as they walked to the entrance.

"Won't happen. There's a Muggle-Repelling charm on the alleyway," Harry explained as he pushed open the heavy entrance door. "The last thing we want is a team of Obliviators coming here."

Ron gasped as he walked into the foyer. "Fuck, Harry, you've got some serious wards on this place."

"You can feel them?" Harry was taken aback. No one should have been able to sense the wards. He'd deliberately masked them.

"Couldn't miss them, mate. You set them all up, didn't you? I could feel your magic all over them, same as the wards at the house."

Harry nodded. That could explain it. Ron was keyed into Harry's personal wards, so perhaps that made him sensitive to any wards that Harry had set. He didn't know enough about ward theory to be certain, but decided it probably wasn't anything to worry about.

"There are a couple of wards that actually extend about 100 metres all around the club, but the main ones are just on the building. This place has a reputation as a fun, safe venue, and the wards make sure it stays that way."

Ron looked confused for a moment, and then his eyes widened. "Exactly what wards are you using here?"

"Nothing illegal," Harry said quickly. "Standard security wards with a couple of extras, that's all. I've just layered them in such a way that people feel happy and want to enjoy themselves. Anyone looking for trouble suddenly finds they need to be somewhere else. The main entrance is around the front, and that's the one Muggles use. This one is solely for magical people and I've got a few added security precautions - that's what you felt as you came in the door."

Harry indicated the reception desk to the right of the foyer and said, "Martin's sister takes care of this area. She explains how things work, gives newcomers whatever information she thinks they need, exchanges Galleons for Muggle money, and can call on me or Blaise if they need more information or if there's a problem. Wizards and witches can come here and know their secret is safe. That's really important."

He led Ron over to the lounge area to the left of the main door. There were comfortable chairs and couches arranged throughout the area in small groups. Coffee tables were dotted about, holding magazines and other literature. Ron picked up a small booklet and started leafing through it.

"There are no Muggles allowed in this area. People can help themselves to a cup of tea or coffee, or one of the Sobrietus potions if they've overdone it. They can sit and relax here. Blaise and I have put together some information," Harry gestured to the booklet in Ron's hand, "that we think will be useful for those who are new to - well, everything."

Ron nodded absently as he continued to flick through the booklet. "Can I have this?" he said suddenly.

"Of course. They're here for people to take. Tap it with your wand."

Ron gave Harry an odd look, but did as he said. He raised his eyebrows as the booklet instantly shrank and turned into a business card for The Lily Pad.

"Clever," Ron said, nodding at Harry before slipping the card into his back pocket.

"It's somewhere people can go if they need help," Harry said. "Nobody there asks questions or judges anyone. They'll help anybody who needs it."

"And you set that up?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "Most of the people who come here just want a night out somewhere where they can be themselves. They're just here to have fun. But for some, this is all very new and scary. Not everyone has someone they can talk to, or somewhere to go if the shit hits the fan. There's all sorts of help for Muggles, but nothing for magical people."

"True enough," Ron said. He had a small, knowing smile on his face.

"Nobody else is going to do anything to help them," Harry said defensively.

"I never said a word, mate," Ron said, his smile growing wider. He threw an arm around Harry's shoulder and dropped a kiss on his head. "You just can't help yourself, can you," he said fondly.

Harry led Ron through to the main foyer and showed him the Muggle reception area. Ron peered into a large glass bowl that stood at the end of the desk. It was full of tiny white envelopes with 'Compliments of Seekers' printed on them in flowing gold script.

"Chocolate?" Ron asked hopefully as he fished out an envelope.

Harry laughed. "You've got a one track mind! No, these are for the male Muggle patrons. Blaise's idea. Advertising and a public service, all in one small package."

Harry plucked an envelope out of the bowl and opened it. Inside were a condom and a sachet of lubricant. Ron peered at them.

"Muggles don't have protection charms. So they use these instead," Harry said, indicating the packet he was holding. "I think the lubricant is self-explanatory."

Ron took the condom from Harry, examined the package, then said, "So how does a small square help? Oh, hang on, you open it, right?" And proceeded to tear it open. "Not a lot clearer as to how this helps, mate," he said with a grin.

Harry took the condom and unrolled it over two of his fingers. Ron squinted at Harry's hand and Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "You're going to ask how putting it on your fingers helps, aren't you," he said wearily.

Ron suddenly snorted loudly and collapsed in a fit of giggles against the reception desk.

"D - Dean had some in fourth year, got them off his cousin. He showed me and Neville what they were. Honestly, I'm not as clueless as you seem to think I am," Ron stuttered out as he laughed. "Sorry, mate, but you should have seen your face."

"You've been hanging around your brothers too long," Harry muttered as he threw the condom into a wastebasket. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the club, and then we can find Martin."

Both foyers led into a medium-sized, softly lit lobby. Comfortable-looking couches were scattered around. There was a corridor leading to the restrooms on the left and a locked door on the right marked 'Staff Only'. Large double doors on the far wall led into the dance club itself. Harry pushed open the doors and led Ron into the darkened area. He waved his hand and several large lights came on.

"Whew! It's bigger than I thought it'd be," Ron said.

"Yeah, I suppose it's pretty big." Harry looked around. It looked the same as most dance clubs he'd been to; they all had that post-industrial look about them, but you couldn't get away from that. The complex audio/visual and lighting systems and associated electronics were an integral part of this sort of place. Or so Martin had assured him.

Harry led Ron down to the dance floor. He gestured to the left, where a wide flight of maybe half a dozen steps led up to a bar area that ran the length of the wall. A wrought iron balustrade ran the length of this area to a similar flight of steps at the other end.

"We have three or four people serving at that bar, depending on how busy it gets, with one just gathering empties, tidying up, keeping up stock levels and so on. It's a good place to grab a drink, catch your breath and watch the dancing."

Harry then led Ron over to the right side of the dance floor, saying, "This is exactly the same sized area, but as you can see it's all seating. More loos and stuff through there." He waved his hand vaguely off to the right, then led Ron up another flight of metal steps to a smaller bar that sat above the seating area.

"We have two people here, and one to run around. Rosie runs the magical entrance; we usually have a couple of people at the Muggle entrance, a couple of security staff, and Tris, who takes care of the music, lighting, video and stuff. He's a wizard, and worked with me on developing the shielding we use so all that stuff will work around magical fields. I use the same shielding on the stuff at home. Anyway, Martin can tell you more about the staff later, as he's related to some of them. Squibs are perfect in a place like this; they're Muggle, but they know all about the wizarding world."

"A lot of people are relying on this place for a living, then," Ron said thoughtfully as he looked around.

"Yeah. Another good reason to make sure we make a success of it."

"Right. You know, I think adding a quieter, more intimate section to this place is a bloody good idea. Attract a different crowd, people who wouldn't feel comfortable with all this," Ron said with a sweep of his arm.

"That's the general idea. A more sophisticated ambience, Martin called it. Says it's been a very popular move for some of the bigger clubs."

"Oy, you two up there?"

"Speak of the devil," Harry said as they peered over the balcony to see Martin standing by the main doors. "C'mon. Martin can show you some of the plans we've had drawn up, and I'm dying for a cup of tea."

---

Harry pushed his plate away, undid the top button of his jeans and sighed contentedly. The food had been brilliant, and he'd eaten far too much. Ron had put away his usual industrial quantities, and Blaise was staring at him in shock as he announced that he still had a bit of room for dessert.

"You should be the size of a house, the amount you eat!" Blaise snapped. He was perpetually on a diet, and Harry had suffered through more than one rant on the dangers of fried food.

"You're just jealous," Ron said. "All us Weasley boys eat like this; not an ounce of spare fat on any of us. Used to drive Mum spare. Said she got her money's worth out of Hogwarts just on the food bills alone. Besides, I get plenty of exercise."

Blaise raised an eyebrow and smirked as Ron raised his glass to his lips. "Do you now? Who's a lucky boy, then, Harry?" he said.

Ron blushed and almost choked on his drink.

"You did that on bloody purpose," Ron muttered as he mopped up the wine that had dribbled down his chin. Blaise gave him a wide grin. Harry simply laughed, then reached across and gave Ron's hand a squeeze.

"You're right. I'm very lucky indeed." Harry gazed into Ron's eyes, and he knew he was wearing that stupid grin again, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Oh, young love," Blaise said, dabbing theatrically at his eyes with the corner of his serviette. "Brings a tear to the eye and a lump to the -"

"Blaise!" Martin said quickly.

"Throat. I was going to say throat," Blaise said, the picture of injured innocence.

"Of course you were," Martin said with a wink.

Just then, the waiter bustled up to clear their table and take their orders for dessert and coffee. A spirited discussion of the menu choices ensued, interrupted slightly as the couple at the next table got up to leave. Harry had to shuffle closer to the table as they squeezed past, but otherwise he paid them no attention. Which was a pity, really. If he had, he might have noticed the odd-looking beetle that clung precariously to the back of the man's jacket.

---

Thanks as always to my beta, the wonderful Halo of Darkness. Take a moment to let us both know what you think :D


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

---

"Are you sure these trousers aren't too tight?" Ron asked as he stared at himself in the mirror. He tugged at the back of the tight, black jeans once more, trying to dislodge the seam that seemed intent on crawling up his arse.

"They're perfect," Harry said. "But if you don't stop wriggling like that, I'm going to strip them off you, throw you on the bed, and then we'll never get out of the house."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, smiling even as he felt his face heat up. The fact that Harry's words sent a little shiver of excitement through him wasn't lost on Ron. He studied himself in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt, and tentatively tested out the thought that he was going to spend the evening at a club where men danced with other men. And then he'd come home, and go to bed with Harry. A flush rose to his cheeks again, but he felt only nervous anticipation. He found himself wondering idly about the other people who would be at the club that evening, and if he would recognise any other wizards, when the sudden, horrifying thought occurred that one of them might recognise him.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not like I want to hide, not really, but..." Ron chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at his hair.

"Your hair does shout 'Weasley' doesn't it? You certainly stand out in a crowd."

Ron turned to face Harry, who looked at him critically for a moment and then ran his hand over Ron's hair. "How about that?" he asked.

Ron turned back to the mirror and blinked in surprise. His hair was now much longer, like his brother Bill's, and was light brown with golden highlights. Harry conjured a black leather strip and tied Ron's hair back.

"Wow! I look really different! I might get you to leave it like this for a while."

Harry crinkled his nose. "I love your hair, Ron. Maybe just leave it longer, but change the colour back?"

Ron nodded absently as he admired himself in the mirror. He really did like the new colour, and everybody associated 'Weasley' with 'redhead'. So in a dimly lit club, there was almost no chance of anybody recognising him. He looked at Harry's reflection for a moment, then said, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Harry said. Ron gestured vaguely at his own head, and Harry looked at him blankly for a moment. "Oh! No. No need. Nobody ever recognises me."

"But everybody knows who you are!"

Harry just shook his head. "No, they really don't. Harry Potter is still a skinny kid with messy black hair, glasses and a scar, for most of the wizarding world, Ron. Those old pictures of me were used over and over by the newspapers, and that image is what's stuck in people's minds. Most people couldn't pick me out of a crowd, these days."

Just for a moment, Ron could clearly see a young Harry in his mind. And he had to concede the point. Harry now was taller, more muscular, with fairly short, neatly styled hair and a light tan. And no distinguishing glasses or scar. He nodded thoughtfully and said with a grin, "Handy, that."

"Yeah. I'm not complaining," Harry said as he slipped on his jacket. "You ready to go?"

Ron picked up his own jacket and said, "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Harry pulled a black leather wallet out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Ron. "You'll need a Muggle-style wallet, and I had this one spare. Your club membership card is in there, and I put some Muggle money in there, too. Because you haven't had time to go to Gringotts," he added.

Ron bit back a grin at the defensive note in Harry's voice. There was no point getting huffy with Harry about this sort of thing, Ron had decided. It was just the way he was, and if Ron was serious about wanting to be with him, well, he was going to have to get used to it. And Harry really was just being thoughtful; Ron knew that. So he simply smiled and said, "Good thinking, mate."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, then gave Ron a brilliant smile and pulled him into a hug. "Thanks, Ron," he said softly.

And at that moment, Ron had a revelation. Harry kept giving him things, and doing things for him, and he'd been racking his brains trying to think of some way to reciprocate and appease his dented pride. But he'd been looking at it the wrong way. Harry wasn't just giving him things. He was trying to take care of him. It was Harry's way of showing how much he loved him. And all Ron had to do to make him happy was let him do it. Ron huffed softly. It was so simple when you looked at things the right way.

"Soppy git," Ron said with a wink. Then he flipped open the wallet and carefully examined the contents. Muggle money never failed to amuse him. He found all the different coins and oddly-coloured notes to be unnecessarily confusing. It was difficult to think of it as real money, not like Galleons. He put the notes back into the wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, then Harry slipped his arm around Ron's waist, and a moment later they were in the alleyway next to the club.

Harry pushed open the door to the club, and Ron followed him in. He looked around nervously, but there were only a couple of people in the foyer. They were standing at the desk listening to the receptionist, and paid no attention to him whatsoever. Harry gave him a reassuring smile, and said softly, "You okay?"

Ron nodded.

"We'll just wait here a minute for Rosie to finish with those two, then I'll introduce you," Harry said. Ron nodded absently, his attention divided between Harry and eavesdropping on what the receptionist was saying to the customers at the desk.

"Now don't forget, gentlemen, you're mixing with Muggles. Please adhere to the 'no magic' rule and keep your wands out of sight. Yes, that always makes people laugh," she added as the men chuckled. "And above all, enjoy yourselves. Remember, if you do over-indulge, please take one of the complimentary potions before you leave. None of us want to explain a splinching now, do we?"

The customers smiled in thanks to the receptionist and went through the door into the club. Harry was pointing out the notice board on the wall to Ron when the woman turned her bright smile on them.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Is this your first visit with us?"

"I've been here once or twice before, Rosie," Harry said with a grin as he turned to face her. She peered at him for a moment.

"Harry! How are you, love?"

"Great!" Harry took Ron's hand and led him to the desk. "Ron, meet Rosie Naylor. This is her domain. She's the point of first contact for magical folk. For a lot of them, this is their first experience of the Muggle world, and Rosie makes it a happy one and smooths the way. Font of all knowledge, and sometimes a shoulder to cry on, we'd be lost without her. Rosie meet Ron Weasley, the light of my life."

Her eyes swept over Ron. "It's lovely to meet you, sweetheart. But aren't you supposed to be a redhead?"

"Blaise has got a big mouth," Harry said with a grin. "Not tonight, Rosie. He's incognito this evening." He winked at Ron, then turned his attention back to Rosie. "Had many through yet?"

"Only a dozen or so, all regulars, but it's early yet. Oh, speak of the devil," she added as the door opened and two Wizards in formal robes walked in. They slipped them off to reveal Muggle clothing, and Rosie said quietly, "Back to work. See you later." She raised her voice and addressed the newcomers. "Good evening, gentlemen. Shall I take those for you?"

Ron followed Harry through to the bar, and carefully ordered and paid for two lagers. He gave Harry a triumphant grin, and Harry gave him a kiss.

Ron was amazed at the difference in the place. It had looked fairly dismal earlier, like an empty warehouse; dingy, with a lot of metal pipes and Muggle electrical stuff all over the place. He had found it a bit disappointing, though he hadn't said so. But now it looked completely different. There were lots of coloured lights that seemed to make patterns in the air. The big telly things and the music and the people, drinking and chatting and dancing, filled it with an air of excitement. Men were dancing together, hugging and kissing each other, and Ron had to force himself not to stare as he followed Harry around the club. Harry had told him that he'd have to work for an hour or so, which seemed to involve chatting to people here and there, answering questions, and occasionally casting a glamour and being a little difficult with the staff, who patiently did their best to make him happy. Ron noticed that most of the clientele seemed to be male, and when he mentioned it, Harry had pointed out several female couples, and then elbowed him sharply when Ron had openly gaped at two women who were kissing passionately as they danced together. No one else seemed to be paying them any attention.

"Sorry," Ron said with a sheepish grin. "But that's fucking hot, mate, you've got to admit."

Harry just stared at him, and Ron couldn't read his expression.

"No, not to me," Harry said finally, then he turned and walked off in the direction of the bar. Ron sighed and followed him. Harry bought a couple of lagers and handed one to Ron.

"Harry, look, I -"

"Forget it," Harry said sharply.

"No. You're upset about this. Can we go somewhere a bit quieter?"

Harry's shoulders sagged a little, and he nodded. Ron followed him out into the lounge, and as the doors closed the noise level dropped somewhat. They made their way over to a couch in the far corner of the room, and as they sat down Ron felt the familiar brush of Harry's magic against his skin. The sudden silence told him that Harry had cast some sort of privacy ward around them, even though Ron hadn't seen him do anything except slump onto the couch and stare at the carpet as he nursed his drink.

Ron took a long swig of his beer while he tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn't afford to be distracted by his concerns about Harry's unconscious use of magic, though he knew it was something they were going to have to talk about. Not now, though. He had other, more pressing, concerns right at that moment.

Ron took a deep breath and said, "Look, Harry. I've been watching the blokes here while I've been following you around, and I'm not like them, I don't think. I mean, they're eyeing off other blokes and chatting them up as though they were girls, you know? And I don't..." He sighed. Harry was as unmoving as a statue, and Ron felt something tighten in his chest. "I'm not interested in other men, Harry. Just you. I mean, I'm sure some of them are really nice, but I don't fancy them, not like that. And I know that if some bird wandered through here with a nice pair of tits and wiggling her arse, I'd be watching her every move. I can't help it. But I'd only be looking; I wouldn't want her, not like I want you. I don't want anyone like I want you. Harry?"

Harry was still staring at the carpet, so Ron continued, "I don't want to hurt you. I feel things for you that I've never felt for anyone before, ever. But I'm not..." Ron waved a hand vaguely as he tried to remember the word. Happy? Jolly? No, gay, that was it. "I'm not gay. At least I don't think I am. Well, not for anybody except you, anyway. And I'm probably always going to look at women and say stuff that Hermione calls me a pig for saying. But I'll try not to, and if it slips out, it doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry, okay?"

Harry sighed heavily, then turned to face Ron. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. You're being honest, that's all. I suppose it just brought it home to me; you're really not -" He broke off, and sighed again. "I'm just scared that one day you'll realise that being with me is a mistake."

Ron snorted. "Idiot! There's just as much chance that you'll go off with some other bloke. There're no guarantees in life, mate, not ever."

Harry nodded slowly, and suddenly Ron could hear the music again. Taking that as a sign that Harry didn't want to talk about this any more, Ron finished his drink and stood up. "I don't know about you, but I could do with another drink," he said as he reached down and pulled Harry to his feet. Harry slipped a hand around the back of Ron's neck and pressed his lips gently to Ron's. Ron slipped his arms around Harry and deepened the kiss. The tightness in his chest dissolved into a warm glow as he pulled Harry tightly against him.

---

Ron leant against the balustrade, watching the dancing as he waited for Harry to come back with their drinks. He spotted Blaise moving purposefully across the dance floor at one point, but he disappeared again into the sea of writhing bodies. One song bled into another, and Ron had just decided to go and see where Harry had got to when he saw him weaving through the crowd towards him.

"I was about to send out a search party."

"Sorry. They were three deep at the bar. It's packed tonight," Harry said as he handed Ron one of the bottles he was carrying. Ron looked at it and raised an eyebrow.

"Did they run out of beer?"

Harry laughed. "No. It's just a good idea to drink some water after a couple of lagers. You don't realise how hot it gets in here. Especially when you're dancing. Speaking of which..."

Ron shook his head. "Oh, no. I hate dancing, you know that. Ever since that sodding Yule Ball. I think McGonagall traumatised me for life: 'lordly lion prepared to prance' my arse," he said loudly over the music. He noticed a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to see two young men standing just behind them, staring at them in surprise. They only looked seventeen or eighteen to Ron's eye - straight out of Hogwarts, he assumed. He saw Harry smile at them, and they smiled nervously back at him.

"First visit, lads?" Harry asked. They nodded in unison. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh, yeah," one of them said. "This is brilliant. I never dreamed somewhere like this existed. It's so hard, you know, having to pretend all the time."

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied. "But make sure you remember everything Rosie at the desk told you, especially if you have anything to do with the Muggles, okay?"

The boys looked sheepishly at each other, and one of them slipped the corner of a small white envelope out of his pocket, and then popped it back in again.

Harry laughed and asked, "Did she give you the booklet, too?"

"She made us read it before she'd let us in," one of them said ruefully. "But that's okay," he added quickly. "I'm sort of glad she did. I know nothing about the Muggle world and I definitely would have made an idiot of myself."

Harry smiled broadly at them. "Yeah, Rosie knows her stuff. Her brother's gay, so is one of her kids, and she's had a lot of contact with our world, so she understands how difficult things are all around. If you've got any problems or questions, you can go to her. If she can't help, she'll find someone who can. Never feel you've got no one to turn to, okay?" The boys nodded. "Have fun," Harry said as the two boys grinned and made their way to the dance floor.

"God, were we ever that young?" Ron said.

"They're only a few years younger than us, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said ruefully as he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. They'd been fighting a dangerous and dirty war at that age, and their experiences showed on their faces. Ron knew that they both looked closer to thirty than they really should, and some days he felt even older than that.

"Come on, you miserable sod, dance with me."

Ron gave an exaggerated sigh, then nodded and let Harry lead him down to the dance floor. He stood unmoving, staring as Harry moved sinuously to the heavy beat. Harry moved closer and loosely draped his arms over Ron's shoulders. Ron slipped his hands onto Harry's hips as Harry moved against him, rocking his hips so he brushed against Ron as he moved. Ron found himself moving to the beat, which seemed to remain constant even as one song merged into another. Harry never stopped moving against him, and the constant friction soon had his cock throbbing. He groaned and slipped his arms further around Harry, slamming their bodies together as Harry pulled him in for a bruising kiss.

Ron buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck before kissing his way up to Harry's ear and saying, "I don't think this was quite what McGonagall had in mind."

"Probably not," Harry said into Ron's ear. "But it's a lot more fun than the waltz." He rocked his hips again, grinding his cock against Ron's.

"Fuck," Ron gasped. "Can we go home now?" He was so hard he was aching. How the hell Harry managed to get him in this state so fast was a mystery to Ron.

"We don't have to leave yet. Besides, I wanted to catch up with Martin for a bit."

Ron groaned into Harry's ear as Harry ground against him again. "Fuck, Harry, you keep that up and I'm going to embarrass myself."

Harry leant back and stared into Ron's eyes as he slowly licked his lips. Then he gave Ron a grin and said, "I think I can take care of your problem for you." He took a step back, grabbed Ron's hand and hauled him off the dance floor. Harry seemed to be heading to the toilets, but he walked past the door to the end of the corridor, which turned sharply to the left. The corridor opened into a dimly lit room, and Ron couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. It was like one of those porn films he'd seen with the twins, except there were no women. At least, he didn't think there were; it was too dark to tell.

"Harry?"

"They don't want to go home yet, either," Harry said as he pushed Ron against the wall and kissed him. Ron started to protest as he felt Harry fumbling with his fly buttons, but then his hand was hot and just right around him and he could only moan helplessly into Harry's mouth. Harry pulled away and suddenly dropped to his knees and Ron looked around in a panic, but no one was paying any attention to them at all.

Ron had the vague idea that he should pull Harry back to his feet. That they shouldn't be doing this where everybody could see. But then that sinfully wicked tongue began doing something that short-circuited his brain, leaving room only for thoughts of how soft and silky Harry's hair felt as Ron wound his fingers in it, and how hot and wet his mouth was. It seemed to take forever, and no time at all, before Ron melted into a blissful heap.

Ron drifted happily in a post-orgasmic haze, and it took him several moments to realise that Harry was standing in front of him. "Better?" he asked with a grin.

Ron just stared at him, and then grabbed him and kissed him. The taste of himself on Harry's lips was something that Ron thought he could easily become addicted to. And that was just so wrong, but right at that moment Ron didn't give a flying fuck. Nobody had ever made him feel like this.

"I can't believe we just did that."

Harry burst out laughing. "C'mon, let's get a drink."

Ron followed Harry out to the bar, and while they waited for someone to serve them, he tried to smooth Harry's tousled hair.

"People'll take one look at you and know what we were doing," he explained as Harry batted his hand away.

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Do I look like I care?"

"Fine, fine. Let's just have a last drink and then head home, yeah?"

Harry paid for the drinks and handed one to Ron. They moved away from the bar, and Harry said, "You still want to go home? I thought we could stay a bit longer. Do a bit more dancing." He draped an arm over Ron's shoulder and began to sway to the music. "I'm wide awake tonight."

"That's good to hear. It'll cut down on the death threats," Ron said with a grin. "I just thought that maybe we could continue this with a few less clothes in the way." He placed a hand on Harry's arse and pulled him close.

"You did?" Harry said. He looked surprised. Actually, Ron surprised himself, even as he said it. But he realised that he meant it. It was odd. Ever since he'd told Harry to stop pissing about and just get on with it he'd felt...free. Like he'd finally made the decision and didn't have to agonise over what it meant any more. He knew that Harry hadn't intended to make things more difficult for him, but that's what had happened. He also knew that it was denial, in a way. Harry wanted Ron to consciously make the decision to do those things. To be...that. But he couldn't. So it was easier to just ignore it. What he did with Harry was...well, it was Harry. He'd die for him. He had killed for him. And if he wanted to go to bed with him, it was nobody's bloody business but his own.

"Ron?"

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Going home," Ron said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Harry chuckled and shook his head, but he had a speculative look in his eye as he said, "Well, as you seem to be taking the initiative here, I think it's time to try something a bit more adventurous tonight." Ron's eyes widened, and Harry continued, "You'll enjoy it, I promise. And I know I will. Let's go."

"I thought you wanted to see Martin?"

"I'll catch up with him next week."

---

Harry Apparated them directly into the bedroom. The fire roared to life as Harry glanced at it, and the room felt instantly warm. Ron guessed that Harry must have cast a heating charm as well. They both stripped quickly, and fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs as they kissed. Harry rolled them until Ron was lying under him, kissing him deeply before putting his lips to Ron's ear and saying softly, "I want you to fuck me."

Ron felt a shock of arousal at the words and his arms tightened around Harry. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. Blaise had given Ron a highly graphic description of the process the previous evening while Harry had been talking to Martin. But hearing about it was one thing. Actually getting ready to do it was something else entirely.

Ron had lost his virginity when he was eighteen, and had been lucky enough to have a reasonably active sex life ever since. So he thought he knew what to expect. He'd had no idea. The fierce, surging emotions that overwhelmed him had Ron lost in a sea of sensation. He pushed in and in and saw Harry close his eyes and bite his lip. He knew that he was probably hurting him, but sinking into Harry just felt so right and Ron couldn't stop, not if his life depended on it. But then Harry was smiling at him, reaching for him and Ron knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. He desperately needed to kiss Harry, and moved forward, bracing himself on his forearms as Harry wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a kiss. And then they moved together, and it was perfect, perfect, perfect...

They lay there gasping for a long moment before Ron propped himself up on his forearms again, sure he was squashing Harry.

"Bloody hell, that was..." Ron shook his head slowly. Nothing he'd done before even came close to making him feel the way he felt right at that moment.

Harry wrapped his arms around Ron and pulled him down into a hug, and Ron smiled contentedly as Harry nuzzled at his neck and whispered, "That was brilliant. I love you," before capturing Ron's lips again.

Ron wanted to tell Harry that he thought he might be in love with him, too, but he found himself getting lost in the feel of Harry's lips, so soft and warm, and he closed his eyes as they lazily kissed, just needing to rest for a second.

---

Sunlight was knifing through a crack in the curtains when Ron opened his eyes again. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, and he smiled as recalled what had happened the night before. Harry was lying on his back next to him, snoring softly, and Ron propped himself up on his elbow and just watched him for a moment. He looked so young when he was asleep; his hair tousled, his face peaceful in repose. Ron felt an odd fluttering in his stomach as he stared at his... He frowned. His best friend? Lover? Boyfriend? Mentally wincing at the thought, he decided that he'd stick to best friend. Probably safest, too. After all, it wasn't like they could tell anyone. Well, apart from people like Blaise and Martin, obviously. He sighed, and suddenly noticed a pair of bright green eyes calmly watching him.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not long. You had that look on your face you get when you're trying to decide something and I didn't want to interrupt," Harry said. He raised an eyebrow, but Ron just shook his head.

"It's nothing," Ron said. "I was just thinking about things. About us."

"About last night?" Harry said with a grin on his face.

"That too," Ron said, feeling himself blush as he remembered what they'd done. Harry's grin widened, and Ron slipped an arm around him and pulled him close.

"When we... Did I hurt you?"

"You were a bit eager, that's all. I'm fine, honestly."

Ron's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

"Shower and breakfast?" Harry said. Ron nodded sheepishly. "C'mon, then. I'll wash your back for you. And anything else you'll let me get my hands on," he added with a leer.

"Pervert," Ron said with a grin.

As he followed Harry into the bathroom, he wondered if they could persuade Dobby to bring them a tray from Hogwarts. He was absolutely starving, and the massive breakfasts the elves prepared at the weekends would be perfect. He huffed softly. This was Dobby. Stopping him from bringing them more food than they could eat in a fortnight was the difficult bit.

"In you get."

Harry's voice pulled Ron from his thoughts, and he was surprised to see that Harry was already standing in the shower.

"You okay?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed. "You looked like you were miles away."

"Just thinking about breakfast," Ron said. He stepped into the shower and wrapped his arms around Harry. "I'm right here, mate, and I'm fine."

And he really was.

---

The uncut version of this chapter is available on my livejournal.

Please take a moment to let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

-----

At 7.20 precisely on a warm Tuesday evening in early June, a young man walked into the saloon bar of the Rose and Crown public house in Cambridge and ordered himself a pint of bitter. He found an empty table tucked in a quiet corner, sat down and pulled a paperback novel out of his pocket. Ten minutes later a young woman walked in. She looked around, ordered herself a lager and lime, and then looked around again, uncertainly. Eventually she approached the young man.

"Excuse me. I hope you don't mind, but I'm supposed to be meeting some friends and they haven't arrived yet. I've seen you in a couple of my lectures, and I hoped you wouldn't mind if I sat with you while I wait for them. I don't like sitting on my own in a pub."

"Yeah, sure, no problem. I'm just killing time until I meet some friends, myself," the young man replied.

The barmaid gave them a little smile as they began to chat about the book and their shared classes, and thought she could sense a budding romance in the air.

In fact, Harry had cast a modified _Confundus_ as soon as Hermione had taken a seat at the table.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. "It's been ages since you felt we needed this level of secrecy."

"Just read this," Hermione said tersely as she thrust a folded piece of parchment at Harry. "I've already decoded it."

Harry picked it up, opened it and scanned the short message written in Hermione's tidy script:

_The beetle is feeding on the Phoenix and sharpening the Red Lion's teeth. The Lion believes it can smell blood. Beware its Den._

"Bollocks. When did you get this?"

"Yesterday morning. It was slipped into a file I was working on. I contacted you as soon as I could, obviously, but Harry, whoever sent this to me used Order codes, and -"

"It's fine," Harry said quickly. "I know who it is."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Harry shook his head.

"It's safer if you don't know."

Hermione sighed, then nodded. "Well, whoever it is, they're warning you that Skeeter's spying on you and reporting back to Scrimgeour. And she's apparently managed to give him something he believes he can use against you."

Harry slowly shook his head as his mind worked furiously. There were anti-Animagus wards in place at the flat, the club and the Lilypad, and his house was under _Fidelius_. He was pretty certain that he hadn't done anything incriminating where Rita was likely to be able to see it. So what the hell was she telling Scrimgeour that had got him so excited?

"The informant is telling you to steer clear of the Ministry building, too, which is odd," Hermione continued. "I mean, it's not as if he'd dare make a move against you in the middle of the foyer, for goodness sake. It's far too public."

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's not an issue, anyway. I avoid the place like the plague. I'm more worried about Skeeter. I've got wards up all over the place, so I don't see how..."

He lapsed into silence as he mentally reviewed his recent activities, trying to spot something that would give him a clue as to what Skeeter could possibly have discovered about him. He finally sighed, rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands.

"I've got no idea. I don't see how she could have anything on me at all. I really don't."

Hermione gave a derisive snort. "Knowing her, she probably made something up. I mean, it's not as if there's anything incriminating to find, is there? Apart from the Lilypad, and I know you haven't been stupid enough to go there and draw attention to it."

"Of course not," Harry said, studiously avoiding her gaze as he picked up his drink and took a long swallow. He hadn't been near the Lilypad, that much was true. But as for there being nothing else incriminating about his life, well, he didn't want to lie to her, but he wasn't ready to tell her the truth, either, so he simply changed the subject.

"Have you heard or seen anything suspicious at the Ministry? Rumours, or anything odd that's happened lately that you think I should know about?"

Hermione pursed her lips and her gaze became thoughtful. She slowly shook her head and said, "No, it's been really quiet. I can't think of... Oh. There was one thing you might be interested to know. The Dark Objects Disposal unit has been flapping around and panicking for the last couple of weeks. Apparently they got an anonymous tip that someone had bought a set of Wardstones on the black market. Richard told me about it, because all collectors and dealers are being asked to pass on any information or gossip they come across. Obviously they've got to track the stones down as soon as they can."

"Because?" Harry prompted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wardstones are extremely rare and dangerous objects. They come as a set of four stones, one for each point of the compass. They look rather like very large eggs, and are heavily inscribed with runes. You set them out over the area you want to cover and then activate them, and they totally nullify magic within that area. The DOD has one set that they use to render cursed and Dark objects harmless so they can dismantle and dispose of them. It took them years to acquire their set, and it's priceless. No one from outside the department is allowed anywhere near them. In fact, only the head of the unit is allowed to use them; it would be far too dangerous for someone who didn't know what they were doing. It's actually illegal for anyone else to own Wardstones, although Richard said that Gringotts is rumoured to have their own set."

"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," Harry agreed. "So Wardstones are like a portable magic suppression ward of some sort, then?"

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Harry, do you ever listen to a word I say? They don't suppress magic; they completely nullify it. That's why they're so dangerous."

Harry furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, I must be missing something here. Why would that be more dangerous that normal magic suppression wards?"

Hermione sighed and said, "If a wizard wandered into the nullified area, he'd die. That's why."

"What? That doesn't make sense."

"Of course it does. We're not just Muggles with a bit of magic thrown in as an optional extra, you know? We're magical creatures, Harry. Without our magic we can't survive. It's as simple as that. Honestly, this is common knowledge. Did you ever actually read a book at school, or did you just rely on me to tell you everything?"

An icy feeling slithered down Harry's spine as he contemplated the extremely unsettling possibility that Scrimgeour had been the mystery buyer. He quickly dismissed the thought. No matter how much the Minister hated him, he'd been an Auror for far too long to break the law so blatantly. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be on his guard.

"Books?" Harry said as he furrowed his brow. "Oh, those things. I think I saw some once in that big room at school. The library, was it?"

"Idiot," Hermione said with a fond smile.

"Speaking of idiots, how are the wedding plans coming along? Ow! I was only joking," Harry said as Hermione punched his arm. "Very nice bloke, your Richard. I've always said so."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They're coming along slowly but surely, thank you for asking. Though while we're on the subject, I do need to speak to you and Ron about some of the final arrangements, as you're both part of the wedding party. I'm busy for the next few days, but... Are you free on Sunday? You two could come to dinner."

"Yeah, that should be okay," Harry said after a moment. "I'll have to check with Ron, but I'm pretty certain he's got nothing on that he can't cancel. What time do you want us there?"

"About six?" Hermione suggested.

"Yeah, that should be fine," Harry said with a smile.

"Great. Well, I need to get going. I told Richard I was just popping in to see Mum for half an hour, and he'll be expecting me back."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thanks for this," he said as he picked up the parchment and slipped it into his pocket. "You will be careful, won't you? Scrimgeour is a dangerous man. He wasn't in charge of the Aurors for so long because he looked good in the robes, you know? At the slightest hint of...well, anything that seems a bit odd, get out of there. Say you're sick and go home."

"I can take care of myself, Harry."

Harry sighed. "I know you can. Just don't draw attention to yourself by trying to find out anything more. Promise me." Hermione nodded reluctantly, and Harry continued, "Ready to go?"

Harry cancelled the _Confundus_ and said, "Look, your friends don't seem to be coming. Why don't you come and have dinner with me and my friends? Do you like Chinese?"

Hermione smiled shyly. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks."

They returned the barmaid's knowing smile as they left the pub. They quickly made their way to the back of the car park, and once they were certain there was no one around, they moved behind the large rubbish bins, cancelled their glamours and Apparated away.

-----

Ron dropped into the kitchen chair with a grateful sigh. He tugged off his shoes and rubbed his aching feet for a moment.

"Busy day?"

He looked up as Harry placed a mug of tea on the table in front of him.

"Oh, cheers, mate," Ron said. He picked up the mug and took a couple of slurps. "God, I needed that. I'm parched. Been rushed off my feet. I don't know where they all came from. Wednesday is usually my quiet day. I'm knackered."

"Too tired to go out for a pint?"

"Of course not," Ron said automatically. "Actually, I'm dying for a pint. I've been looking forward to one all day."

"God, yeah. Me, too," Harry said, sounding somewhat breathless.

"Well, what are waiting for, then?" Ron said as he stuffed his feet back into his shoes.

They made their way out to Muggle London, but instead of heading to their usual Apparition point, Harry started walking in the opposite direction, muttering, "Just follow my lead."

"You do know that my feet really are killing me, right?" Ron hissed back.

"Two minutes, I promise," Harry said.

Ron sighed and kept walking. And then sighed again when it turned out that their mystery destination really was a Muggle pub. If Harry had decided to stop for a pint first, he was going to kill him. He followed Harry inside, growing more irritated by the second. But instead of approaching the bar, Harry headed to the toilets. Ron followed him in, and stood by the sinks as Harry took a quick look around.

"What the hell -"

"Sorry, Ron. I'll explain when we get home. I'm going to Apparate us in a moment. Just hang on."

Ron felt an odd tingle as Harry's magic washed over him, and then the suffocating, squeezing sensation of Apparition. The moment they appeared in the familiar hallway, Harry placed his hand against the wall and closed his eyes. There was another surge of magic, this one much stronger, and Ron's irritation turned to alarm. Harry had just sent a huge amount of power into his wards. The faint, welcoming warmth that Ron associated with the wards on the house was suddenly a much stronger presence at the back of his mind.

"Sorry about all that," Harry said as Ron found himself pulled into a hug. "You go and sit down. I'll get us something to drink."

Harry started to move away, but Ron tightened his hold.

"What's going on, Harry?"

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you in a minute, okay?" Then he slipped out of Ron's grasp and headed towards the kitchen.

Ron kicked off his shoes and gratefully sank into the comfortable couch. He was exhausted, his feet were killing him, and now he was worried, too. This was not how Wednesdays were supposed to be. Wednesdays were boring and quiet, with an evening of rolling around naked with Harry to look forward to. Not busy and stressful, followed by more stress.

"Here you go," Harry said as he gave Ron a bottle of lager and then sat down next to him.

"Cheers. So what's all the drama in aid of?"

Harry exhaled heavily. "I saw Hermione yesterday, and -"

"What's happened? Is she all right?"

"Ron! She's fine, honestly. She just had something to tell me. It seems that Rita Skeeter is working for Scrimgeour. She's been giving him information, apparently. About me."

"But... But..." Ron's brain skipped blithely past vaguely concerned, jumped over really worried and dived head-first into blind panic. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, no. What if she knows? What if she's seen us? If it's plastered all over the front page of the fucking newspapers, everyone will know and it'll kill Mum, I know it will." His chest felt tight. He felt like he was suffocating and -

"Ron! Breathe! Oh, fucking hell."

Ron felt Harry's hand on the back of his head, and the next thing he knew he was choking and spluttering as a potion was poured down his throat. His mind fogged up, and he felt himself relax as he slumped back. His head felt suddenly too heavy to lift, so he let it fall back to rest against the back of the couch.

"Listen to me, Ron. Are you listening?"

Ron nodded slowly. The fog was gradually clearing, but it left a feeling of calm in its wake.

"Good. I'm sorry about the potion. I've only given you a sip, because you were hyperventilating. Now look, I really don't think she's found out about us. I've got wards up all over the place against Animagi, okay? And after I left Hermione yesterday I went and strengthened every single one of them apart from the house, because I knew I could check them over today. They're very, very strong, Ron, but I've beefed them up, anyway, okay? There's nothing to worry about. We're very careful in public, and she can't get to us anywhere else, I'm sure of it."

As he listened to Harry's calm assurances, Ron began to feel more in control of himself. He took several deep, calming breaths, and finally said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Harry sighed. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, mate. None of this is your fault."

"I know that. I just... I really wish we'd just stomped on that bitch when we had her trapped, you know? Or just covered up the airholes in the lid of the jar we had her in. It would have been a public service."

Harry snorted softly. "I kept hoping someone would swat her accidentally while she was spying on them."

"I wish," Ron said. His head was clearing, now that he really had calmed down, and he began to really think about what Harry had told him. "Harry? If you've warded her out of everywhere, then what the hell could she have seen that was worth reporting to the Minister?"

Harry slowly shook his head. "I really don't know. I've been racking my brains, trying to remember if I've made a slip somewhere public; not used my wand for something, or said something, or..." He huffed loudly. "I've got no fucking clue. Hermione reckoned that she was probably just making stuff up, like she always does. But that really doesn't make sense."

"No. No, it doesn't," Ron said slowly. "Not unless Scrimgeour's got something on her and is blackmailing her to spy on you. In which case she'd have to come up with something to keep him happy."

"Did she ever register as an Animagus?"

"I've got no idea. Hermione thought she probably had, to stop us being able to blackmail her with it, but she never found out definitely one way or the other."

"That could be it, you know?"

"It's a definite possibility," Ron agreed. There was still a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, but he decided not to dwell on it. "'cause I reckon," he continued, "that if she really had found out about us, she'd never have been able to keep it quiet. A nice juicy scandal like that would be all over the newspapers by now. There's no way she'd be able to keep a story like that to herself."

"That does sound more like the Rita we know and hate, doesn't it?" Harry said thoughtfully. "All the same, we need to be very careful from now on." He reached out and took Ron's hand. "It'll be all right, I promise." Then he tugged, pulling Ron closer, and kissed him. It was gentle, reassuring, a mere press of lips. And nowhere near enough. Ron had gone three whole days without sex with Harry, and certain parts of his anatomy felt that they'd wasted enough time talking.

Ron wrapped an arm around Harry and let himself fall back, pulling Harry on top of him. Then he slipped his hand up to cup the back of Harry's head and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

"Fuck, Ron," Harry groaned when they finally broke for air.

"Later," Ron mumbled as he nuzzled against Harry's jaw. He slid his hands down to cup Harry's arse, kneading the cheeks roughly as they rutted against each other. He was so close he could almost taste it. He blindly sought out Harry's lips once more, latching on desperately as Harry ground against him, pushing him closer and closer until he was moaning into Harry's mouth as he came.

Ron looked up at Harry, who was grinning down at him, and chuckled. "I haven't come in my jeans like that just from a snogging session since I was a teenager."

"You obviously haven't been doing it right," Harry said smugly.

"Is that right? I just need a bit more practice, you reckon? I could probably find some willing volunteers, if I put my mind to it."

Something hot and dangerous flared in Harry's eyes. "Nobody touches you but me, Weasley. Your days of tomcatting around are well and truly over. You're mine."

"God, you're hot when you're being all possessive and dominant," Ron said. "Give us a kiss, you sexy beast."

"Prat," Harry said, grinning sheepishly. Ron could see the flush creeping up his cheeks, and knew that Harry was embarrassed by his jealous outburst. He felt a little pang of guilt twist in his chest. Harry had good reason, after all.

"I was only teasing," Ron said. "I don't want anyone but you. You know that."

Harry nodded, and shifted slightly. There was a sticky, uncomfortable squelching sensation in Ron's trousers, and he grimaced.

"Shower?" Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Wouldn't mind something to eat, either. Reckon there's any of those instant dinners left?"

"The cupboard's full of them," Harry said as he scrambled to his feet. "Actually, that reminds me. We've got a couple of dinner invitations. Hermione's asked us over on Sunday to talk about the wedding plans."

"Kill me now," Ron muttered as he pushed himself to his feet.

"I told her you'd be there, so suck it up," Harry said as he turned and headed towards the stairs.

"So who's the other invitation from?"

"Blaise. I saw him yesterday when I went to strengthen the wards on his flat. He wanted to know if we wanted to come to dinner on Friday night."

"Sure, why not," Ron said as he followed Harry up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Harry stood by the bathroom door and stared thoughtfully at Ron for a moment. "Exactly how hungry are you?"

Ron furrowed his brow. "What are you on about?"

"Let me put it this way. Do you want a quick shower, or do you want me to come and wash your back for you?" Harry said, flashing Ron the cheesiest leer he'd ever seen.

Ron snorted and shook his head. "C'mon then, Casanova," he said as he took Harry's hand and led him into the bathroom.

It had been three whole days, after all.

-----


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

-----

Harry and Ron made a point of waiting demurely at Blaise's door for him to open it, and Blaise seemed almost disappointed at their lack of creativity as he waved them into the living room.

"Harry, get us some drinks will you, sweetie? Martin's visiting his mother, but he should be back soon," Blaise said as he took a seat next to Ron. "So, Ron, I haven't seen you since the visited the club. What did you think of the place?"

"It was...different. Dancing really isn't my thing, but I quite enjoyed myself."

"So I heard," Blaise said with a knowing grin. Whatever he was going to say next was lost as they heard the front door slam, and a moment later Martin strode into the room, making a beeline for the bar.

"London traffic gets worse every day. It'd be faster to bloody walk, I swear it would," Martin said as he poured himself a drink. Blaise jumped up, wrapped his arms around Martin and gave him a kiss.

"Hello to you, too."

"Sorry, love," Martin said as he gathered Blaise into his arms and kissed him.

"That's better," Blaise said as they broke the kiss. "So, how was your mother?"

"Same as always." Martin looked around, and suddenly seemed to notice that someone other than Blaise was in the room. "Ron, Harry, sorry. Just been a bastard of a day." Martin picked up his drink and followed Blaise over to the couch. "She spent an hour telling me to get a decent job, then spent the rest of the visit telling me about the woman who's moved in down the street. Apparently she's a twenty-eight year old accountant; blonde, blue eyes, very pretty, according to Mum, and single and available."

"She sounds perfect, darling. When's the wedding?"

Martin winced. "Don't you start. Rosie showed up and threw a bit of fuel onto the fire before laughing herself sick and buggering off home. I told she was sacked."

Harry groaned. "Will you stop doing that? Every time you sack her she tells me she wants a pay rise or she's not coming back."

Martin waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, mate. I didn't sack her until she'd already gone home. She won't have heard me. I was just letting off a bit of steam."

"Well, it sounds like you've had a very trying day. So why don't you just relax and have a nice chat with Harry. You wanted to talk to him about those new quotes, didn't you?"

Martin shot Blaise a suspicious look. "What are you up to?"

Blaise put his hand on his heart and fluttered his eyelashes, the very picture of injured innocence.

"Me? Absolutely nothing. Although now that you mention it, I do have something to show Ron. I bought him a little trinket that I thought might be useful. How about we leave you two to chat while I give it to him. Come on," he said as he tapped Ron on the knee and stood up.

Ron shot a panicked look at Harry, who shrugged helplessly. Blaise was a force of nature, and it was easier to just go with the flow than try to argue with him.

"Come on, I don't bite, I promise. Well, not unless you ask me to," Blaise said with a grin as he headed into the bedroom. Harry watched Ron follow Blaise with a dubious expression on his face.

"Relax, I think he bought him a mobile phone," Martin said. "You know how he is with gadgets. Drives me up the wall."

"For a pure-blood wizard, he's certainly taken to Muggle technology like a duck to water," Harry agreed.

Several high-pitched tones and the first few bars of a song drifted out from the bedroom before the door was closed, cutting off the odd noises.

"Yeah, it's a phone," Harry said.

"Come on, then. We might as well take a quick look at those quotes," Martin said with a resigned sigh as he rose to his feet. "You know what Blaise is like once he starts messing about with gadgets. They'll be in there for a while."

-----

Ron perched nervously on the edge of the bed as Blaise pressed buttons on the small black box he was holding. It was making odd beeps, and little tunes issued forth every now and then.

"There!" Blaise exclaimed. He dumped a brightly-coloured cardboard box on the bed and then sat next to Ron. "Harry is totally incapable of keeping his phone charged up and switched on, so I've bought you one. He's got some nifty little shield thing he can cast on it so it'll work around magical fields, so ask him to do that when you have a moment, okay?" Ron nodded, and Blaise continued, "Now, I've programmed in Harry's number, mine and Martin's." Blaise held the small phone out to Ron, who took it gingerly. "It's really easy to use, I promise. I'll show you, and then you can have a go, okay?"

Ron was amazed. In no time at all he was able to turn it on and off, answer it when it started singing, and press the little buttons to call Blaise. He listened to all the tunes and picked one he liked, and found himself grinning in satisfaction.

"Muggles do have some wonderful gadgets. Most wizards have no idea how ingenious they are. They may not have magic, but they find their own way of doing things."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Dad's always saying that. Says we underestimate them and that we can't afford to do that. Everybody pokes fun at him for it, but he's right, isn't he?"

"Most definitely. Traditional wizards are totally lost in the modern Muggle world, and that's dangerous, because they can't blend in. I blame our Ministry for a lot of it. Other Ministries are insisting that people learn all about the Muggle world so they understand it and can feel comfortable in it, but ours is too stubborn." He gave his head a little shake, then looked at Ron with a small smile on his face. "So, things are going well with you two, I assume? Harry seems happy."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's really odd, though. I mean, it's only been a few weeks since we - you know, and it should feel like we're rushing things, but it doesn't. It's just me and Harry, like it's always been, just - more." He shrugged. There was an essential rightness about this that he just couldn't put into words; as though this final step in their relationship had always been there, waiting to happen.

Blaise laughed. "Actually, sweetie, Harry's been mooning over you for years, and from what I can make out, you fancied him for a fair while before you two actually did something about it. You've been dancing around each other for ages, and you've lived together for forever. From that perspective, you've taken things at a very leisurely pace."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah. When you look at it like that I suppose we have, haven't we?"

"Definitely!" Blaise gazed thoughtfully at Ron for a moment, then said, "Look, I hope you don't think I'm poking my nose in where it's unwanted, but I've got a book that you might find useful. I mean, the fifth-year sex education classes aren't a lot of help to those of us who need to know something a little more advanced than contraceptive charms, are they? Most things are fairly easy to work out, but there are a few things that can be a little trickier." Blaise studied Ron's face for a moment, then jumped up, saying, "Hang on a tick." He opened a cupboard door, rummaged about for a moment, then pulled out a shiny plastic bag. "I saw this in a bookshop the other day, and bought it for you. I have a copy myself. It's Muggle, obviously, but it's got some decent information in it, and I've written down the instructions you'll need on how to perform certain useful charms at the back of the book," he said as he handed it to Ron.

Ron pulled the book out of the bag and almost dropped it when he saw it had the words 'Gay Sex' in large, colourful letters on the front cover.

"Now, I know you've had a lot of experience with women, but -"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Oh, please. Whose shoulder do you think Harry cried on?"

The twinge of guilt that Ron had felt the other night when he'd teased Harry came back full force. He'd torn Harry's heart out and stomped on it over and over again, and the fact that he hadn't even known he was doing it made it worse, somehow. Harry was supposed to have been his best friend. What sort of friend had Ron been, not to have noticed something like that?

"Ron?"

"Sorry. Just thinking," Ron said. Blaise raised an eyebrow, but Ron just shook his head. "You were saying?"

"I was making the point that, even though it would seem logical that your previous experience would be useful, you're probably finding that it's not. Not really. Am I right?"

Ron considered that for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah. I mean, some things are the same, obviously, but..." He gave an embarrassed shrug, and Blaise grinned cheekily at him.

He plucked the book out of Ron's hands, leafed through it, then handed the open book back. Ron's eyes widened as he gave a choked cough, and he knew his face was bright red. Blaise gave him an odd little glance.

"Everybody tries it at least once, but not everyone likes it, and if you don't have an experienced partner, the whole thing can be dreadful. Luckily for you, Harry knows what he's doing."

Ron felt vaguely nauseous as something tightened inside him. He looked at Blaise and said, "Have you and Harry, er -"

"No, unfortunately. He's very much into big, butch redheads. I make him nervous, I think. His tastes seem to run to the more masculine, if you know what I mean."

Ron didn't, but didn't feel up to asking for an explanation, so he simply nodded. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Do you enjoy it? Harry seems to, but I - I'm not sure I'd want to try it. I can't imagine letting someone do that to me." There, he'd said it. He couldn't look Blaise in the eye - asking the question had used up the last dregs of his bravado for the moment. He felt Blaise's hand on his arm, and looked up to see him smiling kindly.

"I really like being fucked, and Martin likes to fuck, so we mesh well. We swap around occasionally, but generally he's on top." He paused for a moment, then said, "I don't know if you know those terms. Top fucks the bottom. Some people stay firmly in those roles, but a lot like to do both. I tend to bottom, Martin tends to top, and Harry likes both. Or so I gather. Look, don't over-think it, Ron. It's just another thing to do in bed. It can be great fun, honestly. But..." He sighed, and his expression softened as he said, "It can also be an amazingly intense experience to share with someone you love. Don't panic about it, but don't dismiss it out of hand either. When the time is right, you'll probably want to give it a try." He reached across and flicked through a few more pages of the book resting on Ron's lap. "There. It's got a really good section on oral sex as well. Choking and spluttering does tend to destroy the mood."

Ron snorted and Blaise began to laugh, and they were soon giggling helplessly. Ron closed the book carefully and slipped it back into the plastic bag.

"Thank you. I'll definitely read it. It'd be nice not to feel like a fumbling virgin around Harry all the time." He glanced at Blaise uncertainly. "Why are you doing this? Talking to me about all this stuff, I mean, and giving me the mobile thingy and the book."

"Because I know what it's like," Blaise said. "I love Harry. He's one of my best friends. But he has a Muggle-born's view of our world, and his understanding of what it's like for wizards like us is all up here," he tapped his temple, "rather than in here." A hand rested over his heart. "I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, and I will understand. We're turning our backs on our families, on centuries of tradition and expectation, and making pariahs of ourselves. Harry, bless him, will never truly understand what that means to a pure-blood wizard; our family is everything."

Blaise stood up and walked over to an ornate armoire set in the corner near the large bay window. He opened it, took out a couple of glasses and poured them each a drink.

Ron swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as he nodded slowly. He had been determinedly pushing the guilt and shame down. After all, he was pretty certain that he was falling in love with Harry, and Harry adored him; that was obvious. He was happy, so nothing else should matter. Except that it did. He looked up and forced a smile as Blaise pressed the glass into his hand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you or anything. I just wanted you to know that you've got a friend you can talk to. I tend to joke around a lot because really, what else can you do? I love Martin, and I love my life. And if that means I have to make certain sacrifices, then they're really a small price to pay. Besides, getting all upset just makes your nose red and your eyes watery, and that looks terribly unattractive."

Ron laughed softly.

"There, that's better. It's better to think of all you've gained, rather than dwell on what you stand to lose. You've got the love of a wonderful human being, and in the end, that's what really matters."

Blaise glanced at the ornate clock perched on the top of the dresser and said, "Damn, it's almost eight! I'm surprised we haven't had the hungry hordes bashing the door down, demanding food."

Blaise picked up the mobile phone box and dropped it into the plastic bag with the book.

"We can leave that by the front door. Just remember to take it with you when you leave. Now, do you like Indian food? A new restaurant has opened just down the street that I've been dying to try, and I thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity. I've got their take-away menu right here, somewhere..."

-----

Harry was up early for a Saturday morning. He and Ron had spent the night at the house, and Ron had had to leave early to open the shop. They hadn't planned it that way. Spending too many nights away from the Diagon Alley flat together would look suspicious; they knew that. But Ron had seemed...not upset, not really. Harry couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. But Ron had needed reassurance, of that Harry had been certain. So he'd thrown caution to the wind and told Ron they weren't returning to the flat last night. They'd gone home, instead, and Ron had clung to him desperately as they'd made love, finally falling asleep in Harry's arms.

Harry had tried his best to persuade Ron to take the day off. He'd woken up feeling vaguely uneasy, but he couldn't explain why. Ron had put it down to last night's curry causing nightmares, and had assured Harry that he was fine and would return to the house the second he finished up for the day. He'd gently but firmly refused Harry's offer to help in the shop, pointing out that it would be better for any interested observers to assume that Harry had gone away for the weekend, and that Ron had simply spent the night with a girlfriend. Harry couldn't argue with that logic. But it didn't make it any easier to watch Ron leave, knowing that he'd be stuck at home worrying about him all day.

He sighed and shook his head. "Pull yourself together, idiot," he muttered under his breath. It wasn't as if he had nothing to do, after all. He had a pile of files that he needed to go through, so he made himself a cup of tea and took it into the study with him. He sat down at the desk, unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled out the files.

As he opened the first folder and began reading yet another negative report, he imagined Ron laughing and shaking his head at him. But this was something else that Harry couldn't explain. From the moment he'd awoken from his coma he'd lived with the horrible, nagging suspicion that Voldemort had somehow survived. Hermione had listened to his rambling attempts to explain the certainty that he felt, and had then patiently listed numerous reasons why Harry was wrong. Harry had been insistent, however, and she'd helped him try to find evidence of Voldemort's survival. After a while, though, the patient look of pity had turned to one of worry as she'd told Harry he needed to let go. That Voldemort was gone and that Harry needed to put it behind him and get on with his life. So he'd stopped talking to her about it. He hadn't stopped searching, though.

He opened the next file. Nothing. Time and time again, promising leads had led to dead ends, often literally. He'd found more than his fair share of Death Eaters; all inner circle members, and all very, very dead. So many, in fact, that if it hadn't been obvious that they had been dead for months by the time Harry had finally tracked them down, he was sure he would have been arrested on suspicion of their murders. It was as though someone else had got there first; someone else was a step ahead of him the whole way.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed the last file. Nothing. Again. Not even a lead worth following this time, though. He shoved the files back into the bottom drawer and locked it.

A quick glance at the large clock on the mantelpiece told him that it was lunchtime, but he wasn't in the least bit hungry. Actually, he felt rather nauseous. He headed into the kitchen and rummaged about in the cupboard until he found a stomach-calming potion. He swallowed it quickly, and although it rapidly soothed his nausea, it did nothing to calm the nervous, jittery feeling in the pit of his stomach that had caused it in the first place.

"Oh, bugger it," he muttered. He knew he'd do nothing but pace and fret for the rest of the day if he didn't act on his gut feeling. He needed to check that everything was okay. He could pretend to be searching for something that he'd left behind; that should deflect any suspicions on the part of whoever was monitoring their flat. Decision made, he grabbed his jacket and Disapparated.

The shop was busy, and Harry was wearing a glamour, so nobody paid any attention to him as he peered in through the window. He saw Ron and one of the twins busily serving customers, and just watched them for a moment. He moved away quickly when Ron suddenly looked up and seemed to stare straight at him. He ducked into the alleyway beside the shop and Apparated into the hallway of the flat.

He felt it the second he arrived. A tiny trace of a foreign magical signature. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't been so on edge. He froze for a moment, and then forced himself to calmly walk into the kitchen and rummage about in the cupboards while muttering, "Now, where the hell did I put it?"

He repeated this performance in every single room in the flat, making it look as casual and normal as possible, before 'finding' his 'lost' mobile phone in his bedside table drawer. He then made a great show of checking the time, swore loudly about being late for a meeting, and quickly left.

-----

Harry sat on the couch, nursing a glass of firewhisky and staring blankly at the flickering television screen as he waited for Ron to arrive home.

After leaving the flat, Harry had Apparated to the small magical market area of Manchester and walked briskly out into the Muggle streets. Once he was certain that he hadn't been followed he made his way back to the London house, poured himself a firewhisky, and tried to gather his thoughts.

His impromptu search of the flat had revealed that the hall, the kitchen, both bedrooms and the living room had all acquired shiny new surveillance wards that definitely hadn't been there yesterday. There had been basic surveillance wards already in place, of course. That had been a constant since the day Harry had moved into the flat with Ron and Hermione. But they had been passive, weak things that only picked up sound and recorded who was present in the flat. It had been pathetically easy to render them almost useless while making it seem purely accidental.

But their replacements were a whole new kettle of fish. They were active, high level wards that would record everything that happened, and they were shielded against detection and interference. The fact that they had appeared hard on the heels of the coded warning had him worried. The situation with the Minister was becoming serious, and he was in a quandary. If he simply disappeared now, Ron and Hermione were placed in the firing line, and Scrimgeour would be convinced that he was up to something, paranoid bastard that he was. Sticking to the plan, acting as though he was completely oblivious to the surveillance and going on a well-publicised holiday like anybody else was still the safest course of action, Harry felt sure. He felt as though he had to give Scrimgeour the chance to come to his senses. He wasn't sure why; some misplaced sense of fair play, perhaps? Only if all else failed would he feel justified in taking drastic action.

He glanced at his watch. Almost six. Ron would be back any minute. So Harry headed out into the kitchen and checked on the dinner that Dobby had prepared earlier and placed in the oven. Quite why he checked it, Harry didn't know. It was all sitting there happily under warming and stasis charms. He shook his head at himself and decided he might as well get Ron a beer while he was there, and took it back into the living room.

He had just sat down again when he heard the sound of someone Apparating into the hallway, and a moment later Ron pushed the living room door open.

"Hey, mate," Ron said as he walked over and dropped into the seat next to Harry. He kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes with a sigh. "My feet are bloody killing me. It was a madhouse at the shop today. It's so nice to sit down. Ooh, is that for me?"

"What? Oh, the beer. Yeah, I just got it out the fridge for you."

"Cheers," Ron said as he grabbed it and took a long drink. "That's better. Just what I needed." Then he slipped an arm around Harry and pulled him into a long kiss. When they finally broke apart, he grinned and added, "And that's the other thing I needed."

"Yeah, me too," Harry said. The edgy, nervous feeling subsided a little now that Ron was safely back in the house, and he felt himself relax a little. "Dobby made dinner for us. It's in the oven."

"Great, I'm starving. Oh, that reminds me. Fred came over today to give me a hand, and told me that Mum's asked us over for lunch tomorrow."

"You mean she told him to tell us to be there for lunch, or else," Harry said with a chuckle.

Ron sniggered and said, "Well, yeah, but it sounds better my way."

"Fair enough," Harry said. "I'm not one to pass up a free lunch, especially when your mum's cooking it."

"Well, you know Mum. She's convinced we're incapable of feeding ourselves. I should tell her about Dobby. Might set her mind at rest."

Harry doubted that. In Molly Weasley's mind, none of her children ate enough unless she was personally supervising every mouthful.

"Speaking of which," Ron said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Harry had just opened his mouth to tell Ron about the wards on the flat, but decided to let Ron enjoy his meal in peace.

They took their coffee through into the living room after dinner, and once they were settled on the couch, Harry turned to face Ron. He took a deep breath and said, "I have to tell you something."

"Sounds ominous," Ron said with a grin.

"Actually, it sort of is. Ominous, I mean. I popped back to the flat today." He made a quelling motion with his hand at Ron's irate expression and continued, "I know you said not to, but I had the feeling that something was wrong and I needed to check. I pretended to look for my mobile phone, okay? It won't look suspicious, I promise. But the point is I was right to be worried. I discovered that we'd had unexpected visitors last night while we were out of the flat. There are new surveillance wards set up in the kitchen, our bedrooms, the living room and the hallway. These are heavy-duty wards, Ron, really well masked. To be honest, I think I'm probably the only one who could detect them, apart from the people who set them."

Ron gaped at him for a moment, before finally saying, "Fuck. That's..." He shook his head. "Fuck." He took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. "What are we going to do?"

"What we're not going to do is panic. If Scrimgeour had anything solid on me he'd have used it already. He's definitely got something, that much is obvious, but not enough to act on. And that's why we've got the new wards. He's fishing, hoping we'll slip up or say something incriminating, or do something, or..." He sighed heavily. "I just wish to fuck I knew what it was. But I don't. And we're going to make sure that he doesn't get anything else. Which means being very, very careful from now on."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. Not much else we can do, is there. Not really."

"No. As for what we actually do need to do; well, we're going to the Burrow tomorrow, right? We tell your mum and dad about our holiday plans. Then we owl Bill and Charlie and see if it's okay with them to visit. We tell the twins when we're leaving, and get them to line Lee up to take over the shop. There's only seven weeks until Hermione's wedding, and I'm buggered if I'm going to let Scrimgeour stop me being there. I reckon I can keep my head down for that long, and we head off the day after. What do you think?" Harry watched Ron's reaction as he spoke, and was relieved to see him nodding along.

"Sounds good to me. Are you sure you want to hang around that long, though? Hermione would understand, you know, she'd want you safe."

Ron had a worried look on his face, and Harry flung an arm over his shoulder and dragged him into a hug.

"I'm more concerned about you two than myself. Actually, Hermione's pretty high profile these days, so you're probably the most at risk. Quite honestly, Ron, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. But I wouldn't put it past Scrimgeour to try and get to me through you if he thinks I'm lying low. I need to be around, but not vulnerable. Once I'm away from Diagon Alley, I'm hoping he'll lose interest. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?"

Ron eyed Harry thoughtfully for a moment. "But what if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll have to deal with him," Harry said. Ron shot him a startled look, but before he could say anything, Harry said, "So, what do you fancy doing tonight? Do you want to go out somewhere?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not bothered. We could if you wanted to. I mean, did you want to go the club or something?"

"Ron, I just want to be with you. I don't care. I just thought you might want to go out somewhere."

"Not particularly. I feel like we don't get enough time on our own as it is, so I'd rather stay here with you." Ron shrugged. He stared at the television for a moment, then said, "Actually, you know what? I wouldn't mind watching one of those vidder things that Blaise gave you. A bit of porn to take your mind off things."

Harry snorted softly. "If you really want to."

Ron flashed Harry a grin and jumped up. He headed over to the tapes, and Harry saw him shuffle through them before picking one and shoving it into the player.

"Okay, I've got the vidder in the slot," Ron said as he dropped back onto the couch. "Which of these things do we use?" He held up several remote controls, and Harry pointed out the one that operated the VCR. Then he picked up his drink and sat back as Ron pressed the play button.

"Which one did you choose?" Harry asked as the opening credits began to play.

"They all looked the same, so I just picked up the top one in the end. Does it matter?"

"Well, you might not know what's going on," Harry said. He gave Ron a quick summary of the main events in the show as the episode started. It was the new tape that he hadn't seen yet, as he'd suspected. Ron nodded along as Harry summed up the storyline.

"Sounds simple enough. We'll just watch a bit of it, and if I like it, I'll start watching them from the beginning," Ron said as Harry cuddled up to him.

Ron appeared to have no problem keeping track of who was who, and seemed to find the characters amusing, laughing every now and then at the things they said and did. Harry zoned out, not really taking in what was happening on the screen. He found it difficult to drag his thoughts away from the implications of the latest wards.

Ron shifted against him and pulled him out of his introspection, and Harry turned his attention back to the television screen, to see the two of the characters in a hotel room, one untying his bathrobe. He was fairly certain he knew where this was going. The obligatory accompanying music grew in volume, and Harry smiled as he recognised one of his favourite club tracks. Tris had put a copy of it on one of the compilations he'd made for Harry, and he'd often played it to put himself in the right mood in his pre-Ron clubbing days. He glanced at Ron to see that he was frozen in place, his eyes wide and jaw agape as he stared at the screen. Harry had to admit that it was a pretty hot scene, though not particularly graphic, and he was surprised at Ron's reaction.

As the scene ended, Ron seemed to snap out of his daze. He turned to Harry and said, "That was..."

"That was what?"

"Hot. That was hot. I've never seen two blokes together like that. I didn't expect it to be so... I mean, it's different when you're doing it yourself." Ron shook his head at this revelation and then grinned sheepishly.

Harry leaned in to kiss him, and Ron suddenly shifted back so that Harry was lying on top of him. Harry pushed himself up to rest on his forearms and smiled down at Ron, his face flushed, his eyes sparkling, and something about the look in Ron's eye jogged his memory. "What was going on with you and Blaise the other night?" he asked.

Ron grinned widely. "Well, Blaise gave me a mobile phone and taught me how to use it, because apparently you're useless at it, which was pretty good. And then we talked about some stuff, and he gave me a book on sex."

Harry exhaled loudly and dropped his head down so his forehead was resting against Ron's. "So what, Blaise is teaching 'Gay Sex for Beginners' now?"

Ron laughed. "He's pretty easy to talk to about that stuff, actually. Sort of like talking to a brother." Ron seemed to consider that statement for a moment. "Actually, it's more like talking to my sister - sort of like Ginny on a perpetual Restricted Section version of a cheering charm, you know?"

Harry burst out laughing. That was a perfect description of Blaise's attitude to sex.

"So, did he give you any useful hints and tips?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron said huskily, and he slipped a hand behind Harry's neck and pulled him into a kiss. "Take me to bed," he whispered into Harry's ear. With a thought, Harry Apparated them to their bed and Ron jerked in surprise and nipped at his ear. "I told you to warn me before you did that, you prick."

Harry laughed, and then captured Ron's lips, nipping and sucking them before deepening the kiss while his hands busily worked at Ron's clothes. They got tangled up, and eventually pulled apart and flung off the rest of their clothes before Harry pounced on Ron and pinned him to the bed. Forget the porn video. Naked Ron was the perfect way to take his mind off his troubles.

"I'm going to make sure you can't think about anything but me," Ron murmured into Harry's ear, before flexing his arms and suddenly flipping them over. Harry found himself pinned under Ron, who stared down at him for a moment before leaning in and saying with a leer, "I've been reading. Want to see what I've learned?"

Ron dropped a quick kiss on Harry's lips. Then he suddenly slid down the bed, opened his mouth and sucked Harry's cock into his mouth in one quick movement. And Harry stopped thinking completely.

-----

"A bottle of wine _and_ a bunch of flowers? Mum'll start wondering what we're up to, you know," Ron said as they made their way through the slightly overgrown garden to the back door of the Burrow. He banged on the kitchen door, and Harry thrust the flowers at him to give to his mother as the door opened.

"Ron, thank you!" Molly exclaimed as she took the flowers from him and gave him a hug. "And Harry, how are you, dear?"

Harry put the bottle of wine on the kitchen table, then gave Molly a hug as he said, "I'm fine thanks, Molly, how are you?"

"Oh, couldn't be better. Go on through to the living room, you two, lunch won't be long," she said as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a vase.

Harry and Ron shared a glance and then pushed open the living room door. Fred and George were sharing an armchair, deep in conversation, and Arthur was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper. He looked up and smiled as Ron and Harry entered the room.

"Ron! And Harry! How are you? Come and sit down. Seems like ages since I last saw you, Harry. What have you been up to?"

"This and that," Harry said evasively as he took a seat next to Arthur on the couch. The twins immediately collared Ron and started talking to him about some new product they'd started testing.

"Ron says you've been working with him at the shop," Arthur said.

Harry dragged his attention away from Ron's conversation with the twins and said, "Yeah, when I have some spare time. Been busy lately, though. What about you? How are things at the Ministry?"

"Oh, busy, busy. You know how it is," Arthur said. "We're in the middle of a big reorganisation at the moment, and I've..." He glanced around quickly, and then lowered his voice as he leant towards Harry. "I shouldn't really be telling you this, but it's being announced tomorrow, and I know you'll keep it to yourself. I've been made acting Head of the Department on a trial basis for three months. If it works out, it'll be made official."

"I thought you were already head of your department?" Harry said.

"No, no. Well, yes, I am. But I'm not talking about the Counterfeit Charms section. I'm being made head of the DMLE."

Harry stared at Arthur in shock. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That position was second only to the Minister for Magic. Harry felt vaguely ashamed that his first reaction was one of suspicion, wondering what the hell Scrimgeour had to gain by placing Arthur Weasley in such a strong position. He suddenly realised that Arthur was looking a little put out, and pasted a smile on his face.

"Bloody hell! I mean, congratulations, Arthur. That's brilliant." Harry shook his head a little. "Sorry, you just took me by surprise."

Arthur smiled broadly. "I must admit I had much the same reaction when Rufus told me," he said. "I didn't even say thank you. I just blurted out, 'why me?' like a fool."

"I'm sure he didn't mind," Harry said reassuringly. "It would have been a surprise for anybody. But did he, er, explain his reasons? Not that he needed to, of course," he added quickly. "You're the ideal person for the job. But just as a matter of interest..." Harry let his voice trail off, and waited.

Arthur furrowed his brow. After a moment, he said, "Now I come to think of it, he didn't. He muttered something about there needing to be more of us in positions of power, but when I asked him to explain, he just said that the Ministry needed people of my calibre in the highest ranks, and that he had the utmost faith in my ability to do what needed to be done."

Harry carefully schooled his features into a polite smile, and nodded. "Well, he couldn't have picked a better man for the job, Arthur. I'm really pleased for you."

"Thank you," Arthur said. "I must admit, I'm quite looking forward to the challenge." He paused for a moment, then said, "I probably shouldn't say this, but Rufus told me, confidentially, of course, that he's got his eye on you. 'Watching your activities with great interest,' was the phrase he used. With the big reorganisation going on, well, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Rufus approached you about joining the Ministry, Harry."

Harry stilled. "Is that what Scrimgeour told you, Arthur?"

"Not in so many words," Arthur said after a moment. "It was just the impression I got as we chatted, you know? He seemed quite interested in you. And Ron, too, actually. I must confess I was a bit surprised at that. Didn't think he really knew him. Anyway, he asked if I'd seen you two recently, and that's when he mentioned that he had his eye on you both. You could do a lot of good in the Ministry, Harry. I think Rufus has the right idea, there."

"Did he say anything else?" Harry asked carefully.

Arthur slowly shook his head and said, "No, not really. We were just chatting about family, mostly. We're going to be working together quite closely now, so I suppose he's trying to get to know me a bit better."

Harry shrugged. "You could be right."

Arthur sighed and said, "I know you've never got on with him, Harry, but I really think he's trying to do the best he can for us all. I'm not sure I agree with some of the things he's done in the past, but I feel certain that the shake-up at the Ministry and my promotion are signs of a change in direction."

"I'm sure you're right," Harry agreed absently. He had no idea what Scrimgeour was playing at, but something was definitely wrong, here. Scrimgeour appeared to be setting up the board and preparing to make his first move. Harry just wished he knew what game he was supposed to be playing.

The living room door was suddenly flung open and Ginny bounced in, followed by a tall, dark haired young man. They stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, and Harry could see her glaring at her brothers, who were still deep in conversation and seemed not to have noticed her. She cleared her throat loudly in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Umbridge, which seemed to do the trick.

When she had everyone's attention, Ginny said, "I'd like to introduce you to David Melhuish. He's just qualified as a Healer at St. Mungo's. He offered to tutor some of us younger students, and that's how we met. David, these are my brothers, Fred, George and Ron, my dad, Arthur, and Ron's friend, Harry."

David smiled and nodded as everyone said hello, and then he seemed to do a double take and stared at Harry.

"You - you're Harry Potter," he said in amazement.

"Bloody hell, he's not, is he?"

"You kept that quiet, mate."

Fred and George smiled wickedly at Harry, who just rolled his eyes in exasperation at the double-act.

"He knows who he is," Ron said dryly, pointedly glaring at Ginny, who elbowed her boyfriend non-too gently in the ribs. He flushed, and shot Harry a sheepish grin.

"It's nice to meet you, David," Harry said. "Do you enjoy working at St. Mungo's?"

"Um, yeah, yeah, it's great," David stammered out. Ginny rolled her eyes and started telling a funny story about a woman who'd come in with a bush growing out of her head, and a few minutes later David was chatting animatedly, his nervousness forgotten. The door flew open once more, and Molly started shouting for people to come in and lay the table, as she was ready to dish up lunch.

Molly served up a delicious meal, as always, and Harry ate far too much. As always. Ron sniggered as he spotted Harry trying to surreptitiously undo the top button of his jeans.

"I just can't resist your mum's cooking," Harry said defensively.

"Yeah, you outdid yourself, Mum," Ron added.

Molly blushed at the compliment as she stood up and began to clear to table. As everybody began passing plates down the table, Ginny got to her feet. Instead of helping, however, she took David's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"David and I are going for a walk around the garden, Mum; get a bit of fresh air."

Molly began to protest but Arthur put a restraining hand on her arm and said, "Good idea, love. The boys can clean up for a change."

As soon as the door had closed behind Ginny and David, Ron said, "Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something. Harry's thinking of travelling for a bit, seeing some of the world, you know, and he's asked me to go with him. Not much fun on your own, and both of us are a bit aimless at the moment. So we thought we might go and visit Bill for a bit, and then go and stay with Charlie on the Reservation, and then see what happens after that. What do you think?"

There was complete silence for a moment, and then Molly sighed explosively.

"Oh, thank goodness. We've been trying to find a way to suggest you boys did something like that without it sounding like we were trying to get rid of you. The twins have got Lee all lined up and ready to take over the shop for as long as you want, and Dad's already spoken to Bill and Charlie. They'd love to have you stay with them. Just owl them and let them know when you want to visit," Molly said. "The sooner the better."

"The sooner the better?" Ron echoed incredulously.

"I didn't mean it like that, love. We're not trying to get rid of you," Molly said hastily. "Don't think that for a moment. It's just that you boys don't seem to have any idea what to do with yourselves, and we thought that having a bit of a holiday would be a good idea."

"What your mother's trying to say, Ron, is that it'd do you good to see a bit of the world. Expand your horizons. Both of you. It's been a hard few years and you could both do with a change. Maybe some time away will help you decide what you want to do with your lives."

Harry nodded, as did Ron, and Arthur continued, "So, when are you thinking of going?"

"We thought we'd head off the day after Hermione's wedding," Harry said. "Ron's told me all about his trip to Egypt, and it sounds wonderful. I'm really looking forward to seeing it."

"Oh, you'll have the time of your life," Molly said. "Arthur, you should tell Harry about our trip there."

Molly put the kettle on for tea and the twins finished clearing the table as Arthur started to tell Harry about the things that Bill had shown them when they'd visited Egypt. Molly rummaged about in one the cupboards, eventually producing a photo album of their trip, and Harry stared wide-eyed at pictures of the pyramids. Everyone laughed at one particular photograph that showed Ron clinging desperately to an evil-looking camel, but then Molly pointed out an extremely embarrassing picture of the twins that had Harry holding his sides and gasping for breath he was laughing so hard. Time seemed to fly as everyone told stories about the trip, and before Harry knew it, Ron was nudging him and telling him it was time to head over to Hermione's flat for dinner.

"Are you sure you boys won't stay for tea?" Molly asked as Harry and Ron got to their feet.

"No thanks, Mum. Hermione invited us over for dinner. She wants to discuss the wedding details with us," Ron said sourly.

Molly's smile instantly fell from her face, and she bustled forward and pulled Ron into a hug.

"Mum! Gerrof! I'm fine."

"Oh, Ron," Molly sighed as she released him. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, love. I know it must be hard for you, with her getting married and -"

"Mum!" Ron interrupted quickly as he slipped an arm around his mother. "I'm fine, honestly. I'm really happy for her."

"I wish I could believe that, Ron. But it's obviously painful for you to see her."

Harry couldn't help himself. He let out a snort of laughter that had Molly glaring evilly at him.

"Harry Potter! I thought better of you. Laughing at poor Ron when he's so upset."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, tell your mother why you don't want to go to Hermione's place for dinner."

Ron had the good grace to look sheepish in the face of Molly's obvious concern as he admitted, "Because she'll drive us nuts, that's why. Richard'll sit there not daring to open his mouth, and she'll be lecturing us on our duties as members of the bridal party. And have we bought the robes yet? And have we memorised the entire wedding ritual, its history and footnotes, yet? And then she'll go on and on about every bloody detail until my brain shuts down in sheer self-defence."

"Bloody hell. I don't want to go now," Harry said with a grimace.

"You boys should be ashamed of yourselves," Molly said reproachfully. Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise as he caught Harry's eye, and Harry bit the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to hide the grin that fought to show itself at Molly's complete about-face.

"It's a great honour to be part of her special day. Of course she worries about all the details. It's important to her, and you should understand that. She's supposed to be your friend. Now, off with the pair of you," Molly said as she opened the door and shooed them out of the house. "And behave yourselves," she called out before slamming the door.

They managed to make it to the edge of the Burrow's wards before collapsing into a hysterically giggling heap, and it took them a good five minutes before they were composed enough to Apparate without Splinching themselves.

Their good humour evaporated almost the instant that Hermione opened her front door.

"You're late," she said, ushering them into the flat. Before they even had a chance to say hello, she continued, "Now, did you go to the tailor's as I asked you to?"

"Yes, Hermione," they chorused.

"Oh. Well, you'll probably have to go again. I've made some changes to the design he showed me, and you'll need another fitting. I've got the sketches here..."

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night.

-----


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Harry sucked on the end of his pen as he considered the list in front of him. Hermione would be getting married in just over a month, and he and Ron would be leaving the country the day after the wedding. So there was a lot to organise, and although Harry was fairly certain he had everything covered, he knew that if he didn't write things down he was bound to forget something.

He rolled his shoulders and stretched, then smiled as he watched Dobby for a moment. The elf was sitting opposite Harry at the kitchen table, carefully copying words in an exercise book that Harry had given him. Most house-elves were barely literate, he had been shocked to discover, knowing only enough to perform their duties. He'd immediately offered to help Dobby improve his reading and writing, and the elf had enthusiastically accepted. Winky had loudly expressed her displeasure at Dobby for flouting the natural order of things, but Dobby had quietly told Harry that she'd asked Dobby to teach her what he learnt.

Dobby chattered away as he carefully copied the letters, and Harry gave him the odd, encouraging murmur as he once more ran over what had to be done before he could safely leave everything and everyone to their own devices for several months.

"...so then Dobby slipped the poison into the pumpkin juice, and then ran around giving socks to all the Hogwarts elves."

"What?" Harry's head shot up and he stared at Dobby in horror.

Dobby's ears quivered for a moment, and then the little elf burst into hysterical laughter, almost falling off his chair he was laughing so hard.

"Wheezy Ron," Dobby managed to squeak out in between gales of laughter, and Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he massaged the bridge of his nose. He was going to kill Ron. "Wheezy Ron said to wait until Harry Potter wasn't really listening, and then to say Dobby was doing something bad. Then Dobby has to describe the look on Harry Potter's face to his Wheezy."

Harry sighed. Ron had decided to teach Dobby how to play practical jokes, saying it was just as important as reading and writing. Given that he'd grown up with the twins, he probably really believed that. If he'd known that Ron had set him up again, he'd have smacked him around the back of the head instead of kissing him goodbye this morning. He smiled softly as his thoughts turned to his lover and the wonderful night they'd spent together. No, he decided. He still would have kissed him. He missed him desperately. He knew he had to keep a low profile, and that they had to be careful, but he'd barely seen Ron over the past couple of weeks. So he had been delighted when Ron had turned up at the house last night, pinned him to the wall and kissed him breathless, muttering something about boring Wednesdays. It had certainly brightened Harry's day.

"Harry Potter thought it was funny?"

Dobby's voice broke into his thoughts. The elf looked a little uncertain, now that he'd stopped laughing, and Harry huffed softly and smiled at him.

"Yes. It was very funny, Dobby. Now, how are you getting on with your writing?"

"Dobby is finished," the elf said as he firmly closed the exercise book. "Is Harry Potter wanting his lunch, now?"

"No. I've got some things to do first," Harry said as he cast his eye over the notebook in front of him. "You and Winky are going over to help Narcissa this afternoon, aren't you?" he added absently.

Dobby shook his head. "Not today, Harry Potter. Today is little boy's birthday, but there is lessons. So they is having a party tomorrow because lessons finish early on Fridays. Winky is looking forward to helping." Dobby shifted in his chair, and the oddest expression crossed his face as leant forward, lowered his voice and added, "Winky is really loving little children. And babies. She was nurse-elf for bad family, and she wants me to..." He paused, his head suddenly turning towards the door of his den. Harry turned his head and saw Winky peering out of the doorway at them. The door closed abruptly. "But you is very busy and has to leave soon," Dobby said loudly. He shot a pleading look at Harry.

Harry shrugged helplessly. He had no idea what was going on between Dobby and Winky, and quite frankly he didn't want to know. But playing along seemed to be the easiest way out of whatever it was. So he raised his voice slightly and said, "Yes. I have to read these notes before I leave, and I don't have time to chat."

"Thank you," Dobby whispered as he hopped off the chair.

Dobby bustled off, and Harry sighed and shook his head. He'd doubtless find out what that was all about, sooner or later. Whether he wanted to know or not.

He turned his attention back to his notes. The club was all taken care of. The only real problem they'd had was dealing with exchanging Galleons, and after speaking to the Goblins about it, Harry had been able to solve that one fairly easily. He'd purchased a foreign exchange pouch, and for a small fee per transaction the pouch would exchange Muggle money for Galleons, and vice versa.

Remus had everything at the Lily Pad under control, but had agreed to send a Patronus message to Harry should disaster strike in any form. Harry had had the distinct impression that Remus was humouring him, and thought that Harry was fussing unnecessarily, but had been too nice to say so.

Draco Malfoy had not felt so constrained. Narcissa had been much more tolerant, assuring Harry that everything would be fine, but that they would contact him immediately if they needed him. Harry had pointedly ignored Draco's acid mutterings about his incompetence, intellectual shortcomings, overweening ego and obvious co-dependency problems, and thanked Narcissa for setting his mind at rest.

Dobby and Winky were more than capable of taking care of themselves and the house, this morning's odd conversation notwithstanding, and Harry had made it quite clear to Dobby that he was in charge. He and Winky were to feel free to help out anyone that asked, if they wanted to, but were under no obligation to do so. If they wanted to do nothing but stay at home all day, that was fine with Harry. Dobby had burst into tears at that point, and Harry steered well clear of the topic of holidays, now.

Harry turned to the next page in his small notebook, and took a sip of his tea as he scanned the page. Hermione's wedding was all under control. And he need have no fear that he'd forget to do anything in that regard; she would make sure of that.

He finally came to the last item on the list: their holiday. Ron had owled both Bill and Charlie, and received replies from them last week. They had decided to go to Egypt first, and then visit Charlie and spend some time on the Dragon Reserve, and both Bill and Charlie had been more than happy to accommodate them. What happened after that was still undecided, though. And to that end, Harry had made an appointment at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He wanted some Muggle documentation for Ron. Harry already had a passport, a driving licence and a couple of credit cards, but he wanted to arrange for Ron to have the same. That way, they could travel freely in both the Muggle and magical worlds for as long as they wanted. Or needed to. Harry didn't like to think of it as running away, but if he was honest with himself, that was what he was doing. At least for a little while.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the hall pulled Harry from his introspection. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had ten minutes to get to the bank. Plenty of time. He summoned his jacket, slipped it on, and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

-----

Harry sighed contentedly as he pushed his plate away and picked up his cup. He took a sip of his tea and smiled. His quick trip to Gringotts had ended up taking a full two hours, and he'd been starving by the time he'd got back home. It had been worth it, though, and considering how much had been achieved, it really had been fairly quick. Ron now had full access to all Harry's vaults and Muggle bank accounts, and Harry had updated his will and personal papers while he was there, listing Ron as next of kin and main beneficiary. The goblins had taken care of the Muggle arrangements, and Harry now had a leather case to give Ron that contained his credit cards, driving licence and other identity papers in various languages, a passport, and a Gringotts direct-draw wallet keyed to Harry's main vault.

Harry drained his cup, and was just debating whether to pour himself another or not when his alarm wards flared. He jumped to his feet and slammed his hand against the kitchen wall, and an image of a small silver mole flashed in his mind. Harry immediately let it through the wards. The small creature appeared in the middle of the kitchen table and Harry heard the words, "Moony's Bolthole. Now," in a hoarse whisper as it dissolved into a mist. A lump of lead seemed to form in the pit of his stomach, and he instantly Disapparated.

He appeared silently in the dusty living room of the long-abandoned Shrieking Shack. The room was deserted. Harry Disillusioned himself instantly as he quickly scanned the room. A thick layer of dust covered the few tatty pieces of furniture that was all the room held. The door was closed, and Harry moved to stand in the far corner, squeezing against the wall next to a rickety wooden sideboard. After several nerve-racking minutes there was a sharp crack and a tall man in a dark cloak appeared in the centre of the room. He spun around, wand in hand, then slowly lowered the wand and threw his hood back, saying, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Harry cancelled the Disillusionment as he took a step out of the shadowy corner. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"He's made a move. He's got Ron."

The words hit Harry like a physical blow. He couldn't breathe. The air was suddenly too heavy around him and the smell of burning tin grew strong in the room as he felt something inside him shatter. The tatty sideboard exploded in a shower of splinters, and he felt a strong hand grab his arm and drag him over to the opposite side of the room. A desperate voice shouting in his ear finally dragged Harry back from his panic-fuelled fury, and he immediately reinforced his shields, forcing down the jagged spikes of raw power as they howled and fought to escape. He took deep, slow breaths as he desperately strove for control.

He slowly opened his eyes, not remembering when he'd closed them, and saw scared eyes in a pale, shocked face staring warily at him. Harry took another deep breath, letting it out slowly before taking a deliberate step back, shaking off the restraining hand.

His magical containment seemed to be holding and he took a moment to slam his mental shields firmly into place, too, forcing his roiling emotions behind them. He needed to think. He needed calm and clarity of thought. Ron was in danger, and he didn't have the luxury of falling apart.

When he felt sufficiently in control to speak, Harry barked out, "Hermione?"

"Safe."

"Is he -"

"Stunned but unharmed."

"You're certain?"

"I'm as sure as I can be," Percy Weasley replied. "I haven't seen him, and I didn't find out until after they'd taken him. I suppose they worried that I might baulk at Ron being involved. They sent him a message, supposedly from Hermione, to lure him to the Ministry. I was sent to get her."

"I fucking _told_ him to stay away from that place," Harry said angrily. "He never fucking listens." He huffed loudly and shook his head. "What about Hermione. Is she safe?"

"I assume so, yes. I couldn't make her understand that she was in danger, so I Stunned her, Disillusioned her, and hid her in a storeroom. Then I reported that she had already left the Ministry building. It didn't really seem to bother him. He just gave me a message to leave at the flat for you, then told me to go straight home." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and said, "I smuggled Hermione out of the building and as soon as we were at a safe distance from the Ministry I sent you the Patronus message. She was still Stunned at this point. I didn't have time to argue with her, and if she'd begun shouting it would have drawn unwanted attention. I placed the timed Portkey and the card with your address written on it in her hand and then revived her just before the Portkey activated."

"What do you know about Ron's situation?"

"As soon as Ron entered the Ministry, he was apparently followed and Stunned. Scrimgeour is keeping it very quiet; only a handful of people know anything about this. He's in a cell in the dungeons, next to Courtroom Ten. I've been assured that he's only there for his own safety, but I don't understand -"

"This message you were supposed to give me. Where is it?" Harry asked, cutting Percy off.

"It doesn't really make any sense," Percy said as he fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it over. Harry slowly unfolded it, and he could feel the colour draining from his face as he read the message:

_Want to know where he'll be found?  
Near a courtroom, underground.  
Think I'm bluffing? Ponder this:  
I've got the one you'll sorely miss.  
He's safe for now, for an hour or two,  
But I wouldn't dally if I were you.  
Take too long and the prospect's black.  
Too late, he's gone, he'll never come back._

_Your move._

"He's mad," Harry mumbled through numb lips. His worst case scenario had just taken on a nightmarish dimension. Power-hungry, conniving Scrimgeour was dangerous enough. A truly insane Scrimgeour, who had Ron at his mercy, was a terrifying prospect.

Percy dropped inelegantly into a dusty chair, slumped forward and ran his hands over his face, unknowingly echoing Harry's thoughts as he said, "I'm not sure that the Minister is entirely sane, any more. To be perfectly honest he hasn't seemed totally sane for some time now, not where you're concerned. I mean, sending you a cryptic note in rhyme, for Merlin's sake! Something has pushed him completely over the edge, Harry. And he's got my brother."

"It's a message to me," Harry said slowly. At Percy's incredulous look, Harry continued, "I know, obviously, it's a message for me. I mean the rhyme itself. He's paraphrased the clue from the second task. Remember? The Triwizard Tournament?"

Percy's eyes widened. "Ron was chosen as your hostage. You had to rescue him or..." A look of horror crossed Percy's face. "I had no idea, Harry. None whatsoever. If I'd even suspected..."

"You couldn't have known, and they've obviously made sure you knew nothing until it was too late," Harry said wearily. "You did the only thing you could. You told me."

Percy nodded slowly. "I know. I just wish... Look, Harry, I don't know what you've got in mind, but you can't just storm in there to get him. You'd be playing right into that madman's hands. I know you're a bit more powerful than the average wizard." Percy paused, and his gaze grew wary. "More powerful than you've let anyone suspect, actually, but even so, you really can't risk going to the Ministry. I think I should talk to Dad. He's head of the DMLE, now, and he's in a position to step in and stop this insanity. They've got Ron under a glamour and they've concocted some ludicrous story to keep people away from the dungeons. If we talk to Dad and get the help of some people we know we can trust, such as Shacklebolt and Tonks, then we could -"

"There's no need for that," Harry said sharply, cutting Percy off mid-sentence. "Go home, Percy. Everything will be all right." At Percy's stricken expression, Harry added a little compulsion to his voice. "I have it all under control. Go home. I'll send you a message tonight, and you can come to the flat in the morning to see Ron. I promise he'll be there. Everything will be fine."

Percy stood slowly, reluctantly, swaying slightly as though he had been pulled to his feet rather than standing of his own accord.

"I don't... If you're sure. Just - just get him out of there. Scrimgeour said he'd let him go, but I don't trust him." Percy's brow was furrowed and he looked a little confused. Then, with a sharp crack, he Disapparated.

"Neither do I," Harry said softly. He needed to come up with a plan of attack. But first, he needed to make sure that Hermione was safe. "Dobby!" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty room.

"Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby cried as he appeared with a loud pop, looking dishevelled and twisting his ears in distress. He threw himself at Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry's legs, and Harry reached down and awkwardly patted his back. "Your Miss Hermy is at home and is very upset! Winky has locked herself in our den and is hiding. Miss is shouting, and she's trying to leave, but the wards won't let her."

Harry eased Dobby's hold on his legs, and squatted down to look the elf in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Dobby, but she has to stay there. We're all in a lot of trouble at the moment and I have to sort it out. Tell her I'm sorry about the Portkey, but it's for her own safety. I'll be there as soon as I can, but she can't leave. Warn her that if she keeps trying, the wards will Stun her. Give her something to eat and drink and tell her to make herself at home. Then go and stay with Winky. She doesn't deserve to be upset like that. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Dobby nodded miserably. "Dobby tried to tell Miss Hermy about the wards, but she wouldn't listen."

Harry sighed in exasperation. He knew Hermione could be stubborn, but this was ridiculous. She was safe, which was more than could be said for Ron. If she didn't have enough sense to realise that things must be bad for Percy to have virtually kidnapped her, then that was her problem. Harry had far more pressing worries right at that moment. He finally said, "Look, Dobby. Just tell her what I said. If she gets herself Stunned because she's too bloody stubborn to listen to you, then that's her problem. I'll sort it out when I get home, okay?"

Dobby nodded reluctantly, then vanished with a loud pop.

He was alone once more. Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, tamping down the cold fury that raged within him at the thought of Ron locked in a cell in the Ministry building. Helpless. Defenceless. Alone.

"Fuck!"

The shout echoed in the silent room as Harry stood, head bowed, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. This was all his fault. Somehow, somewhere, he'd let his guard down and given Scrimgeour enough that he felt he could get away with this. And Ron was paying the price. Harry would never forgive himself. He took another deep breath, forcing himself to exhale slowly as he began to pace.

Five steps, turn. Five steps, turn. He found the steady rhythm calming. He had to pull himself together. Ron needed him and he would not, _would not, _let him down. He needed a plan. Unfortunately, planning wasn't his strong point. Ron was the strategist, not Harry. That was how it had worked during the war. Hermione identified their next objective, Ron worked out a plan to achieve it, and Harry carried it out. And it had worked well. But this time he was on his own.

Percy had been right in one very important respect. Harry couldn't just go storming into the Ministry building, wand blazing, no matter how much he wanted to. And he really, really wanted to. Scrimgeour had made a serious mistake when he'd decided to use Ron for bait. Ron was... Ron was everything. And Harry would tear the whole Ministry apart if that was what it took to get Ron back safely.

His pacing took him once more to the centre of the room. Harry stood there for a moment, calmly considering his options. Not that he had many. He had to go to the Ministry building. However, Scrimgeour would be expecting him to head straight to the dungeons in a bid to free Ron. After all, that was what Harry did; rushed in where angels feared to tread, in true Gryffindor fashion. But not this time. This was far too important to risk relying on sheer force and blind luck. He walked slowly over to the sturdiest-looking of the chairs and sat down. He had some planning to do.

-----

The dowdy, middle-aged witch stepped into the telephone box, picked up the receiver and dialled six two four four two on the old fashioned telephone.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

The witch looked around nervously, as though trying to see where the cool, impersonal voice had come from. After a moment, she said, "Um, my name is Verity Mockery, and I'm here because my neighbour, Mrs. Shammer, told me that I should report what I'd seen to the Aurors. I'm not sure that -"

"Thank you," the voice said, cutting off the babbling woman. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes." There was a click and a rattle, and a square silver badge appeared in the coin return chute. The witch picked it up and pinned it to the front of her sensible robes.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The telephone box shuddered as it descended into the depths of the Ministry of Magic, and gave a bone-jarring jolt as it arrived at its destination.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

"Oh! Thank you very much," the witch said as she stepped out into the large atrium. She looked around with wide eyes as she walked past the ornate fountain, then hesitantly approached the security desk next to the golden gates that led to the lift lobby.

"Over here, madam," the bored-looking security wizard said. He peered at the badge pinned to her chest, then waved a thin golden rod vaguely up and down in the woman's direction. He dropped the rod back onto his desk and said, "Wand, please."

The witch pulled a neat wand out of her pocket and handed it over, and the wizard dropped it onto a tray attached to an odd looking machine. He frowned as nothing happened. The witch glanced around quickly and then glared at the machine. A moment later it shuddered and spat out a piece of paper. The wizard looked at the slip of paper and said, "Nine inches, willow with a unicorn hair core, been in use thirty-five years. That correct?"

"Oh, yes, quite right," the witch said as she took the wand and slipped it back into her pocket. "Er, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go."

"You want the second floor, love. That's where the Aurors are. Lifts are through there," the security wizard said as he waved vaguely at the golden gates. Then he sat down at his desk once more and picked up his newspaper.

The lift lobby was practically deserted. There were only two women waiting for a lift, but they were chatting and didn't seem to notice the witch who stood behind them. A lift arrived, and they got on, leaving the lobby deserted. The two women stepped out of the lift on the fifth floor, still talking, and the door slid shut. The dowdy witch stepped forward and pressed the button for the first floor. Then, in an instant, she seemed to shift, growing taller, her dowdy clothing becoming the smart robes of a ministry employee. A moment later the doors opened and Percy Weasley stepped out onto the first floor.

He bypassed the expensively decorated waiting area, turning instead towards the security desk and nodding as he approached the guards, who looked suddenly confused and returned to their conversation, completely ignoring him. He pushed open the heavy oak door leading to the Minister for Magic's offices, blithely disregarding the engraved brass plate that directed visitors to knock.

The Minister's secretary looked up at his entrance.

"Percy? I thought you'd gone home for the day."

"I need to speak to the Minister urgently," he said. "I believe he's free?"

"That's right. He told me not to schedule any appointments for him for this afternoon. I'll let him know you're here."

She stood up, but Percy waved her back to her seat.

"Don't bother. He's expecting me." He stepped closer to her desk and said, "Oh, you've got a smudge of ink on your nose. Here, let me get that for you."

He pulled out a crisp white handkerchief and leant forward. The woman blushed slightly and simpered at him. Then her features slackened as her eyes glazed over.

"The Minister is alone. He had no visitors this afternoon. He gave specific instructions that he was not to be disturbed by anyone, for any reason. He has locked his door to ensure his privacy. You should take the opportunity to pop down to the canteen for a cup of tea and a chat."

The woman nodded slowly. She stood, picked up her handbag and left the office, closing the door softly behind her.

He stared at the door to Scrimgeour's office for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He would only have a few seconds to secure everything, so he would have to move quickly. His appearance would put Scrimgeour off his guard, but only for a moment. Then he sternly reminded himself to stick to the plan. He would remain calm and collected. And he would definitely not kill the Minister for Magic the moment he entered his office.

He squared his shoulders and carefully opened the door.

The Minister was sitting at his desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. The sound of the door closing caught his attention and he raised his head, a look of surprise on his face.

"Weasley? What the hell are you doing here? I told you to go home. If you're trying -" His words were cut off as he suddenly yawned widely and then slumped forward onto his desk.

Percy's form seemed to blur as he approached the Minister, shrinking slightly as his hair changed colour, and a moment later Harry Potter stood in front of Scrimgeour's desk, glaring down at the sleeping man. He hadn't been able to risk casting any offensive spells, knowing that the office would be warded extensively against such things. Fortunately, _Somnus_ was a medical charm, meant to give suffering patients respite by sending them into a gentle sleep, and Harry had hoped that nobody would be foolish enough to ward against those.

He took a moment to scan the office, disabling the surveillance and intruder alarms before locking and warding the office door and throwing up a silencing charm of his own. He summoned Scrimgeour's wand, shrank it and slipped it into his pocket in case he needed it. Then he propped Scrimgeour up in his chair, a muttered _Incarcerus_ firmly binding him in place, and revived him. Scrimgeour yawned as his eyelids fluttered open, and he stared blankly at Harry for a moment. Harry watched as realisation dawned on the Minister, and his blank expression turned to one of hatred.

"You!" he spat, and immediately threw his head back and started shouting for help.

"No one can hear you, I'm afraid. Your alarms won't work, either. I've completely isolated this office," Harry said calmly as he sat down opposite the Minister. He leaned back, making himself comfortable, before adding, "You've gone to a great deal of trouble to get me to come to the Ministry. So here I am. What can I do for you, Minister Scrimgeour?"

Scrimgeour's face was pale, but he puffed up his chest and glared at Harry.

"Untie me, this instant," Scrimgeour demanded. "The guards will be breaking through that door any moment now, and -"

"No. No, they won't. Nobody knows I'm here, and I've disabled your security wards. It's just you and me, Rufus."

Scrimgeour's jaw tightened. "You will address me as Minister, you insolent upstart. And I don't know what delusions you're labouring under, but my security wards are beyond anything you're capable of tampering with."

"You think so?"

Harry made a slight gesture, and a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses appeared on the desk. He bit back a satisfied smirk as Scrimgeour's eyes widened for a moment. Harry poured himself a drink, then said, "Want one?"

"How stupid do you think I am? Your party tricks don't impress me one bit, boy. Do you honestly believe that I don't know exactly what you've been up to? I know more about you than you can possibly imagine." A triumphant sneer settled on Scrimgeour's face as he leant forward as far as his bonds would allow and said, "I know what you are."

"And what would that be?" Harry drawled in as Malfoyesque a manner as he could manage. It had the desired effect.

"Don't take that tone with me," Scrimgeour snapped out. "You disgust me. You think you're so clever, but once I knew what to look for, it was simplicity itself to find the proof. And once I make it public, your name will be reviled by all. Your depraved perversions will be condemned by all decent, law-abiding wizardkind, as is only right and proper."

"You're making a lot of assumptions here, Rufus," Harry said. "You're assuming your information is correct -"

Scrimgeour snorted loudly. "What part of 'I have proof' is unclear, you stupid boy?"

"You are also assuming that I'll allow you to live long enough to tell anyone else," Harry said coldly.

"Empty threats," Scrimgeour sneered. "I'm holding all the cards in this game. If you cooperate, I'll release the Weasley boy unharmed. Return him to his family. That's what you want, isn't it? For the boy to be safe? We'll have a Mind Healer treat him first, of course. And then Arthur need never discover how you've betrayed him by preying on his son. They welcomed you into their family, didn't they, and treated you as a beloved son. It would break Molly's heart if she knew what you were; what you'd done."

Harry clenched his jaw against the surge of guilt that rose within him. He should have expected something like that from Scrimgeour. Should have known the man would attempt to manipulate him and exploit any possible weakness. The knowledge that the Weasleys would see his relationship with their son as a betrayal was a definite chink in his armour, and Scrimgeour's words hit their target. And he obviously saw the guilt on Harry's face, because he smiled benevolently.

"You know I'm right, Harry. And I assure you, I have nothing but the Weasley family's best interests at heart. You owe it to them to do the right thing. You know you do. Arthur's position here at the Ministry is very important to him. But I need to know that I have his full support, and for that I need the support of his family, too. Removing your destructive influence from their lives is the easiest way to achieve that, Harry. I would hate to have to force the issue. Because if I told them what you are, and what you have done, well..." He shook his head sadly. "They would denounce you. Even the boy. Of that I am certain. Now stop this foolishness and release me."

"No, I don't think so," Harry said slowly. "Threats are only effective when you have the upper hand. And as it's you, not me, who's tied to his chair, cut off from any possible help, and without a wand, I don't think I'll worry unduly. Because if you honestly think I'm just going to let you go you're more deluded than I thought you were."

"Oh, you'll let me go," Scrimgeour spat, his expression darkening as his benevolent facade dropped away. "You'll have to, if you want your little toy to live."

Harry launched himself across the desk and grabbed Scrimgeour by the throat. "You don't threaten him, you fucker," he shouted into his face. Scrimgeour made a gurgling noise as Harry tightened his grip for a moment, before releasing him with a disgusted sound as he pushed away from the gasping man. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper or allow Scrimgeour to goad him. He needed to keep a clear head. He took a calming breath and sat down again.

"I'd be very careful if I were you, Potter," Scrimgeour choked out after a moment. "You need me if you want the Weasley boy back safe and sound. You don't honestly believe that I'd be stupid enough to lure you here without taking some precautions, do you? Leave myself completely at the mercy of a cold-blooded killer like you?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, astonishment short-circuiting his growing anger. "Cold-blooded killer?" he echoed, hardly realising he'd said it out loud.

Scrimgeour tugged at the ropes binding him to the chair and glared poisonously at Harry as he said, "Thought you had me fooled, did you? Your pet Mudblood fooled everyone else with her patently ridiculous account of what happened that day, but I saw through it. You thought you'd covered your tracks, but I recognise a Dark ritual when I see one, Potter, and they don't get much darker than what you did in Diagon Alley. How many did you kill that day? Twenty? Thirty? More? You got away with it, of course, because they were Death Eaters. Nobody cared that you were a mass murderer."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Harry said sharply. "I didn't kill anybody in Diagon Alley."

"They decided to drain their own magical cores and siphon all that power into you completely spontaneously then, did they?"

"That was Voldemort!" Harry protested.

"Oh, of course," Scrimgeour said derisively. "And I'm sure he'd be happy to confirm your version of events. Had he not mysteriously vaporised while you had your wand pointed at him."

"You've got no idea what you're talking about," Harry said, but Scrimgeour simply spoke over the top of him.

"But then that was your intention. You used your connection to Voldemort to suit your own ends. You used him as a conduit, drawing all that power into yourself and killing them all in the process. You were hailed as the conquering hero by the ignorant masses. You had more power than you could ever have hoped for. The world was yours for the taking. Or so you thought. But Dark rituals have a way of backfiring, don't they, Potter? I had you watched, and saw all that power slip through your fingers."

"That's not what happened," Harry snapped out. "You've got completely the wrong end of the stick."

But Scrimgeour once more ignored his protests, saying, "How did it feel, Potter? Knowing that all your plans had come to nought. You were the most powerful wizard on the face of the earth for one bright, shining moment, and then it slipped away from you. I had hoped that your failure would be enough to curb your lust for power. That sanity would prevail. But when I discovered the new depths of depravity to which you had sunk, I knew that it would not. I know the real reason you intend to travel to Romania. Dark sorcery. Because that's the only way to get all that power back, you and I both know that. And if I don't stop you, you'll drag that poor, deluded fool with you, use him to sate your perverted appetites and then make him your blood sacrifice. And once you've sold your soul, you'll drag the rest of us down to hell with you. You and your depraved urges and your vulgar minions: dark creatures, Mudbloods, everything base and disgusting that will pollute our world. And when the noble and pure fight back, you'll crush them. That's what Dark Lords do, Potter. And that's why you have to be exterminated. Before it's too late to stop you."

Scrimgeour was breathing hard, his face red, his lips flecked with saliva. He was literally foaming at the mouth, and Harry found it profoundly disturbing to witness. He repressed a shudder, and with a flick of his hand he cast a silencing charm on Scrimgeour. He rose to his feet and placed his hands on the desk, leaning towards the bound man.

"I've listened to you, and now you're going to listen to me. You and I have never got along, Scrimgeour, but I never thought I'd hear you say anything like that disturbing little diatribe I was just subjected to. If I had any doubts about your sanity, you've cleared them up for me." He leant closer, his face mere inches from the Minister's, then let a little of his power flow around him. "You might be interested to know that I don't need any Dark Romanian rituals, fascinating though they sound. I have more power than you could ever dream of. I'm the stuff of your nightmares, you sanctimonious bastard. You made a serious miscalculation. You see, I knew you were watching me."

He drew back, and watched with satisfaction as Scrimgeour's face paled.

"And now," Harry continued. "We're going to take a little look inside your head. Because there's definitely something wrong here."

Harry grabbed Scrimgeour's chin and wrenched his head back so that he could stare into his eyes. Scrimgeour's mental shields were surprisingly strong, and Harry had to force his way in. He recoiled in shock at what he found. Fine, black tendrils were woven throughout the man's mind. Harry found the closest ones and followed them through the chaotic thoughts that whirled and drifted around him. The delicate threads grew thicker and stronger the further he ventured into Scrimgeour's mind. He found himself following more and more threads as they converged, leading him directly to their source. It appeared to be a dark crystal that gave off a sickly green light. He gently probed it and swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat. He'd never encountered anything like it before. It was a mind control curse, but it was the oddest one he'd ever seen. It wasn't attempting to control Scrimgeour's actions in any way. Its sole purpose was to poison his mind against Harry. And it had the taint of Voldemort's magic all over it.

Harry immediately reinforced his own mental shields and desperately regrouped. This was not what he'd been expecting at all, and quite frankly he had no idea what he was going to do about it. His first priority, however, had to be getting Ron out of the dungeons and back to the house, where he'd be safe. Everything else could wait. Firmly putting thoughts of the hex to one side, he began to scan Scrimgeour's memories.

When Harry finally withdrew from Scrimgeour's mind he immediately sent him back to sleep, then picked up the glass of Firewhisky he had poured earlier and drained it one swallow. He picked up the bottle, stared at it for a moment, then suddenly hurled it across the room where it smashed against the wall. He stalked away from the unconscious man and flung himself onto the couch at the far end of the room. He needed to keep away from Scrimgeour, because otherwise he'd kill him.

Harry hadn't been unduly shocked to stumble over a memory of Scrimgeour secretly purchasing the illegal Wardstones that Hermione had mentioned to him. After listening to the man's insane ravings, he had almost expected it. But it was what Scrimgeour had done with them that was making it very difficult for Harry to find reasons not to tear the man's heart out.

He had set the Wardstones up inside Ron's cell and booby-trapped the door. The moment it was opened the nullifying field would be activated. Scrimgeour had confidently expected Harry to head straight to the dungeons and blunder right into his trap. Harry could understand Scrimgeour wanting to kill him. Having seen inside the man's head he was only surprised that he'd waited so long. But targeting Ron was something Harry was finding very difficult to forgive.

Despite his earlier words, Scrimgeour had never had any intention of letting either of them leave the Ministry building alive. Once the nullifying field had done its work and drained their magic, he had planned to dump their dead bodies in Knockturn Alley, where they would be quickly discovered. He would then have regretfully informed a shocked world that their hero had been dabbling in Dark magic, accidentally killing both himself and his best friend. Arthur would have been devastated at the news, of course, and Scrimgeour had intended to turn that to his advantage, offering his support and gaining Arthur's loyalty as he came to realise that Scrimgeour had been right all along about how dangerous Harry was. Ron would die simply because Scrimgeour saw it as an astute political move.

Ron. Harry took a deep breath and mentally berated himself. He needed to pull himself together. Time was running out and he needed to come up with a plan, not sit wallowing and contemplating Scrimgeour's painful death. He closed his eyes and reviewed the memories he'd seen in Scrimgeour's mind.

There were only six conspirators in total. Percy was at home, and Scrimgeour was unconscious. Three others were secreted in the cell next to Ron's. They were to summon Scrimgeour once the trap had been sprung. The last conspirator, Rita Skeeter, had only been involved peripherally. She was obviously not trusted, as Scrimgeour had Obliviated her after checking that she had kept no copies of the information that she had passed to him. So that was one less thing to worry about. Harry decided that he would pay her a visit, anyway. Better safe than sorry.

But first, he had work to do. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the sleeping Minister. Harry studied Scrimgeour carefully, then closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. He conjured a full-length mirror and scrutinised his reflection, making small adjustments to the glamour until he was satisfied with his transformation. Using the information he'd gleaned from his plundering of Scrimgeour's mind, Harry walked over to the fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo powder and called out, "Tenth floor. Sanctimonia."

The Floo in the Minister for Magic's office had password-protected access to every fireplace in the Ministry building, which solved the problem of how Harry would get to the tenth floor unobserved. He stepped out of the Floo, and found himself in a small chamber. There were two doors set in the wall opposite the fireplace. Harry opened the one on the left, and saw that it led into Courtroom Ten. He closed it quickly. The other door led into a gloomy corridor, and Harry flinched as a torch set into the wall flared to life. The walls were stone, as was the floor, and at the far end was a heavy wooden door. Harry felt his heart pounding as he walked towards it. Despite the icy chill in the corridor his hands were sweating, and he wiped them absently on his robes before reaching out and pushing the heavy door open. If he made a bollocks of this, Ron would be the one who paid the price.

He stepped through the doorway, quickly scanning the room as he did so. A small wooden table and two chairs were set just to the left of the doorway. On the opposite wall were three wooden doors. Each had a small, barred opening set at head height. A face appeared fleetingly at the opening of the cell door on the far left, and as Harry strode towards it the door opened. Dawlish, one of the conspirators, stood in the doorway, wand in hand, and said, "Has something gone wrong? You're supposed to wait until we call you."

"I need a word," Harry barked as he stepped towards Dawlish, who moved back into the cell reflexively. Two other men dressed in Auror's robes were sitting on the single bunk, and they rose to their feet as Harry entered the cell.

"Minister?"

A look of suspicion crossed Dawlish's face and he raised his wand. At the same moment, Harry made a slashing motion with his arm, and the three men dropped instantly to the floor, Stunned. Harry quickly left the cell, locking the door behind him.

He peered through the bars into the middle cell, and swallowed against the twist of pain in his chest at the sight of the pale figure lying motionless on the narrow bunk. It didn't look anything like Ron, but Percy had warned him that they'd placed Ron under a glamour. Harry moved closer, jamming his face against the bars as he peered into the cell. He could just make out the shape of a Wardstone in the far-right corner. His first instinct was simply to Banish the stones, but he didn't dare. He couldn't risk casting any magic in the cell. He had no idea how sensitive the booby-trap was.

Swearing softly under his breath, Harry unlocked the third door and walked over to the far-left corner of the cell. He crouched down, placed his hands on the wall and concentrated for a moment. He was surprised to find that there were no wards on the wall at all. Presumably no one thought that a prisoner would attempt to break from one cell into another. Which made sense, Harry supposed. He stared dejectedly at the wall. He couldn't risk Banishing a section in case it triggered the Wardstones. He pushed himself to his feet with a groan. There had to be some way to get Ron out of that cell.

He slumped onto the hard bunk and cradled his head in his hands. He toyed vaguely with the idea of getting some tools and smashing a hole in the wall, but it would take far too long. And if anything happened to Ron because Harry was too stupid to come up with a way to save him, Scrimgeour would die a slow and painful death, whether he was in his right mind or not. Because there was no way Harry would allow him to live to gloat over how well his plan had worked.

Harry slowly raised his head and stared at the wall. It occurred to him that Scrimgeour must have had some way to deactivate the Wardstones. How else would he be able to retrieve their bodies to dump them in Knockturn Alley? His gaze drifted to the corner of the cell, and suddenly the answer came to him.

"Of course!" he said loudly as he dived out of the cell. He quickly unlocked the door of the first cell and ran in, kicking Dawlish in his haste to get to the corner. He dragged the bunk out of the way and saw a neat pile of stone slabs sitting next to a hole in the wall. The Wardstones obviously had to be deactivated from outside the nullifying field, and as they were currently set up, one in each corner of Ron's cell, the only way to do that was to break a hole in the wall to get to one of them. He mentally berated himself for his stupidity in not realising that fact immediately, and then crouched down and stared through the hole. And there it was. Harry simply stared at it for a moment. Then, hardly daring to breathe, he slowly reached in, wrapped his hand around the Wardstone, and picked it up. Very, very carefully, he withdrew his arm, then slowly rose to his feet. He glared at the stone and watched with satisfaction as it slowly crumbled to sand in his hand, pouring through his fingers to fall to the floor.

He sagged against the wall, feeling light-headed with relief. Then he shakily pushed himself upright and made his way to Ron's cell. The moment he stepped through the cell door he Banished the remaining stones then quickly made his way over to Ron's bunk. He cancelled the spells on Ron and checked him over. He had a bruise on his forehead but seemed otherwise unhurt, and Harry smiled as he saw Ron's eyelids flutter open.

He wasn't prepared for the look of loathing on Ron's face as he snarled, "You fucking bastard! If you think for one minute that I'll help you hurt Harry, you've got another think coming. I'll -"

"Ron! It's me," Harry said as he quickly removed his own disguise.

Ron pushed himself to his feet as he shouted, "You're not going to fool me like that, you prick. Harry's got more sense than to -"

Harry grabbed Ron and slammed their mouths together. Ron froze for a moment, and then Harry was enveloped in a bear hug as Ron kissed him back eagerly. Harry broke the kiss to bury his face against Ron's neck, hugging him tightly and relishing the feel of him, safe and solid, in his arms.

"Let's get out of here," Ron said after a moment.

"I can't go yet," Harry said. "I have some things to do here, first. But I want you to activate your Portkey, then wait at the house for me, okay?"

Ron shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not leaving you here on your own, Harry. I -"

Harry kissed him again to shut him up, then said, "I need to be sure you're safe. Hermione's already there, and she's probably going ballistic by now. If she hasn't managed to get herself Stunned by our security wards, or by Dobby or Winky, I'll be very surprised. You need to go and sort her out, okay? I'll be fine, I promise. There's only a handful of people who know about this little kidnapping spree, and I've got them all Stunned. I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place." As Ron's eyes widened, Harry chuckled humourlessly. "I'm not going to _Avada_ the lot of them, Ron, as tempting as that thought is. I'm going to modify their memories. They're going to forget all about this little stunt, and everything that led up to it."

"I could help," Ron said. "It'll be quicker with two of us, and then -"

"No. I don't want any trace of your magical signature here, at all." Harry paused. "Speaking of which, we need to find your wand. I wonder where -"

"No, I've still got it," Ron interrupted, pulling his wand out with a flourish. "They must have forgotten to take it."

Harry felt his jaw drop as he stared at the wand in Ron's hand. "That fucking prick," he said softly. If Ron had woken up before Harry had managed to destroy the Wardstones... Harry exhaled shakily at the thought.

Ron's brow furrowed. "What's wrong, mate? I mean, it's good that I've got it, right? We don't have to try and find it."

Harry slowly nodded, mentally adding one more sin to Scrimgeour's long list of transgressions. "Yeah, you're right," he said after a moment. "Let's get you home."

Ron gave Harry a worried look, but finally nodded reluctantly. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

"I'm sure. Dawlish and the other two idiots in the next cell will be a piece of cake. Scrimgeour's going to be a bit more difficult, though. Voldemort's had him under a sort of Imperius, probably for years. I'm not really sure what I can do about that."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "Shit! Look, maybe I should stay -"

"Go home, love. I need to know you're safe. And keep Hermione there with you. I'll be home as soon as I can. I promise."

Ron huffed loudly at Harry's reassuring smile and said, "Fine. But don't take too long or I'm coming back to get you."

Ron stepped away from Harry, whose hand suddenly shot out, grabbed Ron again and pulled him into a desperate kiss. He felt Ron's arms wrap around him, and he tightened his hold.

"I was so scared," Harry whispered against Ron's jaw. "I could have lost you."

"Shhh." Ron patted Harry's back soothingly as they clung to each other. Eventually, Harry took a deep breath and stepped back. He caught Ron's eye, and they stared at each other again before Ron broke into a smile and said, "I'm fine, Harry."

Harry nodded jerkily. Then he stepped back and placed his hand against the back wall of the cell. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting a tendril of magic drift out to tentatively prod at the Ministry wards. He sifted through them, finally finding the anti-Portkey ward. The little tendril of magic gave it a slight twist, and Harry said, "Now, Ron."

Ron muttered, "Marauder's Rest," and vanished. Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he closed the tiny breach he had made in the wards.

"Okay," he mumbled under his breath. "Time to go to work."

One by one he sifted through the three co-conspirator's minds. They were all fiercely loyal to Minister Scrimgeour and had followed his orders unquestioningly. He had not confided in them, however. All they knew was that Scrimgeour suspected Harry of subversive activities. And none of them had had any idea that the stones they had placed in Ron's cell were lethal, much to Harry's relief. He really didn't want to believe that three Aurors would deliberately kill two innocent people simply on the say-so of the Minister.

It was a simple matter to modify their memories. Harry then placed them under Imperius and led them to Scrimgeour's private Floo chamber. He sent them through to the atrium, one by one, with the command to go directly home to bed. When they awoke, they would only remember the modified version of events that Harry had given them.

Finding himself alone once more, Harry stood in front of the fireplace and stared into the flickering flames. He was reluctant to return to Scrimgeour's office. He knew he had to, of course. The Minister had to be dealt with.

Harry had to hand it to Voldemort; he had judged his victim perfectly. The curse had subtly encouraged his suspicions until Scrimgeour had firmly convinced himself that Harry was a fledgling Dark Lord. It had then reinforced those thoughts, leading Scrimgeour further and further into irrational paranoia. And it had all happened so gradually that the man would have had no idea that he was being manipulated.

Unfortunately, it left Harry with a rather large problem. The curse had been there so long that it was now an integral part of the Minister's mind. And while Scrimgeour may have been under its influence when he had formed his paranoid opinions, it had really only reinforced what was already there. That much had been made obvious to Harry during his mental scavenger hunt. The man was a bigot. His previously well hidden belief in the supremacy of pure-bloods, and a fear and hatred of anything he considered Dark that bordered on obsessive was causing pain and hardship for those who found themselves on the margins of their society, and it could not be allowed to continue.

The right thing to do would be to remove the curse and then call in the Mind Healers. However, removing the curse would be an extremely difficult task, and Harry was far from convinced that it would actually do any good. As far as he could tell, the damage had already been done, and was irreversible. Which placed Harry in a rather difficult situation, morally speaking.

He could only see one way out of this. Well, there were several, actually - but he really wasn't suicidal, so simply waking the Minister up and letting him go free was out of the question. As was a quick _Avada Kedavra_. Harry had never killed anyone in cold blood, and he wasn't about to start now. Wishing it were someone else's problem wasn't going to achieve anything, either. He wasn't altogether certain that he had the right to take matters into his own hands, but it needed to be done. Besides, he had very little choice in the matter. He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire and reluctantly stepped into the green flames.

The next half an hour or so was spent covering his tracks. Harry ransacked the office, destroying every scrap of incriminating evidence that Scrimgeour had carefully hidden away. Once he was absolutely certain there was nothing left, he set about wiping the Floo and surveillance records before returning Scrimgeour's office to its previous, pristine state. It was crucial to his plan that there was nothing about the office to indicate that anyone other than Scrimgeour had been in there all afternoon.

He finally turned his attention to the Minister. He searched him, easily finding the hidden pocket he'd seen in the man's memories. He removed the tiny Gringotts key and slipped it into his own pocket. Scrimgeour had set up an anonymous vault into which he had placed a copy of everything he had had hidden in the office. Harry shook his head at the depths of the man's paranoia. If Scrimgeour had placed the evidence in his own vault, Harry would never have been able to touch it. As it was, the holder of the key had full access to the vault, no questions asked. He'd simply go to Gringotts directly after dealing with the Minister and destroy the lot before visiting Rita Skeeter to make sure Scrimgeour really had dealt with her properly. Which only left one loose end.

Knowing he could no longer put it off, Harry revived the sleeping man, who blinked rapidly, a look of confusion on his face. The moment he saw Harry, however, his confusion turned to anger once more, and he began shouting. Or so Harry assumed. The silencing charm he had cast earlier was still active, so all he saw was Scrimgeour's mouth opening and closing as the man's face grew red. After a moment, he seemed to realise that Harry couldn't hear him, and glared at him instead.

Harry used the eye contact to swiftly enter Scrimgeour's mind. He spent quite some time examining the curse and sifting once more through the Minister's mind, but it only confirmed his initial suspicions. Knowing he had no other choice, Harry set about making the modifications that were needed if his plan were to succeed. And then there was only one thing left to do. Harry perched on the edge of Scrimgeour's desk and regarded him steadily as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he began to speak.

"I could kill you, right now, and nobody would ever know it was me. And part of me really wants to do that. You tried to kill me, and turn about is fair play, after all. But I can forgive you for that; even understand it, after what I've seen in your head. But what I can't forgive is the way you used Ron. Because he never stood a chance, did he? You were going to kill him whatever happened. If I'd blundered into your trap, I'd have killed us both. But if I went after you instead, he'd have been left in that cell until the Stunner wore off. You made sure he still had his wand, didn't you, so he'd unwittingly kill himself. And you will pay for that."

Scrimgeour's eyes widened and a look of panic settled on his face. His mouth moved rapidly, but Harry simply shook his head.

"I'm trying very hard to believe that you wouldn't have acted in this way if you'd been in your right mind. I suppose, in some ways, it wasn't your fault. You were under the influence of a mind-control curse, after all. But the thing is, Scrimgeour, if you'd been truly honourable, a really good man, I don't think the curse would have had that much effect on you. It really was a very minor hex, you know. Little more than a nudge in a particular direction. You could have ignored it if you'd really wanted to. But you didn't, and now it's too late."

Harry rose to his feet and turned Scrimgeour's chair so that he was looking directly at him. Scrimgeour had given up his pointless shouting and was simply staring, ashen faced, at Harry.

"The damage has been done, and as far as I can tell it's irreversible, because you truly believe all that shit you spewed at me," Harry continued. "Of course, I could remove the original curse, and without its influence you might possibly tone down some of the more extreme views you've been espousing recently. Go into political damage control and try to salvage some of your reputation. But underneath it all, you would still believe in pure-blood supremacy. You would still believe that Muggle-born and half-blood witches and wizards were beneath contempt, and that werewolves and other magical creatures were dark and had no place in the magical world. You would still see people like me as sick and depraved. And of course, there's still the little matter of you believing me to be a Dark Lord. So as you can see, simply removing the curse is not an option." Harry paused, and sighed regretfully. "I've given this a great deal of thought, and I can only see one way to resolve this, because I can't in good conscience allow you to continue as Minister for Magic. Our world needs someone who can lead us into the future. And that person is not you. This has nothing to do with revenge, I promise you. In fact, if you were truly yourself, you might even thank me for what I'm going to do. It's for the best. For everyone."

Scrimgeour began shaking his head frantically, but Harry reached out, placing his hands on either side of the Minister's head to hold it steady. He gazed into his eyes, and said, "I really do regret having to do this, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry. _Obliviate_."

-----

Notes:

Ransom note based on the Merpeople's song - _GoF 25_.  
Standard Ministry greeting in telephone box taken from _OotP_.


	11. Chapter 11

Note: This follows directly on from chapter 10. They were originally one chapter, but as it weighed in at around 20,000 words, I deemed it prudent to split it.

Chapter 11

-----

Harry didn't bother wasting time examining the contents of Scrimgeour's anonymous Gringotts vault. A cursory glance told him exactly what was in there. So he simply incinerated its contents, then Banished the ashes. The goblin who accompanied him didn't seem at all shocked at this odd behaviour. He simply smirked at Harry and enquired whether the vault was now closed, taking the key when Harry gave a surprised nod.

As he left the bank, Harry wondered exactly what the anonymous vaults were used for. Judging by the knowing expression on the goblin's face, it definitely wasn't legitimate. Things like blackmail, probably, he decided. Which wasn't far off the mark in his case.

He made his way to the Prophet offices to deal with his last loose end: Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, a bored-looking receptionist informed him that she had already left the office, as she was covering a fashion show that evening, hosted by Gladrags Wizardwear. Checking his glamour was firmly in place, and suppressing an annoyed sigh, Harry Disapparated.

Skeeter wasn't difficult to spot in the crowded room. She seemed to be in her element, gushing over various over-dressed women, her poisonous quill scribbling frantically as her photographer busily captured it all for posterity. Harry had no idea how he was going to get her alone, though. She was absolutely obsessed with the rich and famous, and was thoroughly enjoying herself, from what Harry could see. She wouldn't willingly leave their company unless... Harry smiled as the ideal course of action presented itself.

Someone announced that the show was about to begin, and people started taking their seats around the catwalk. Rita's photographer moved over to a table near the wall and started doing something to his camera, and Harry seized the opportunity.

"Excuse me, I think you dropped this," Harry said, holding out a lens cap that he had just conjured.

"Thanks, mate," the photographer said. He reached out to take it, but Harry tightened his grip. The photographer looked up in surprise and Harry instantly ghosted into his mind. The man's eyes glazed over for a moment, then he slowly turned and made his way over to Skeeter. Harry watched as he whispered into her ear. A look of surprised anticipation crossed her face, and she instantly excused herself.

Harry Disillusioned himself and followed her as Skeeter made her way backstage. She briefly looked around, then opened the backdoor and slipped outside. Harry immediately followed her out in the alleyway behind Gladrags. He cast a locking charm on the door, and then removed his disguises.

"Hello, Rita."

"Harry! Peter said you'd asked to speak to me privately, but I really wasn't sure..." She shook her head quickly. "Surely we can find somewhere more comfortable for an interview, Harry. This is rather...tacky." She looked around, a moue of distaste on her face. Her gaze drifted to the door, and then returned to Harry's face.

"No, it suits me fine," Harry said. "I'm just surprised that you were stupid enough to agree to meet me in a dark alleyway."

A wary look crossed Rita's face and she laughed nervously. "Oh, Harry. My photographer knows where I am, of course. And why on earth would I be worried about meeting you?" She glanced at the door again, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Peter's not coming, Rita," Harry said. "He believes that you've had to pop home for something. But I doubt you want him involved in this, anyway. Because I want to talk to you about a somewhat annoying insect that has been spying on me and passing on little tidbits of information to a certain political figure."

Skeeter definitely looked worried now. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. There was a shrillness to her voice, however, that totally belied her words.

Harry gave her an assessing look. "What concerns me, Rita, is that you obviously do know what I'm talking about. And you shouldn't. Because he Obliviated you, didn't he?"

Harry clearly saw a flash of panic in Skeeter's eyes. He abandoned his plan of toying further with the irritating woman and slammed into her mind.

He had to hand it to her. She trusted absolutely no one, including Minister Scrimgeour. Before every meeting with him she had made extensive use of her Pensieve, copying every single memory that in any way related to Harry. And her suspicions had proven well founded, as it turned out. Scrimgeour had Obliviated her on more than one occasion, never suspecting that she had a back up plan. Harry was just profoundly grateful that he hadn't made the same mistake.

He withdrew from Skeeter's mind and instantly placed her under Imperius. He felt a twinge of guilt at the way he had been throwing that particular Unforgivable about, but instantly quelled it. Ron's safety was more important than any ethical quibbles, and his conscience would just have to live with it.

He ordered Skeeter to take him to her house. Once there, he watched as she destroyed every piece of evidence she had gathered against him. She emptied out her Pensieve, and Harry destroyed the silvery memory strands himself. Finally, he Obliviated her, knowing that this time it really would work, before sending her back to the fashion show. All she would remember of the missing time was returning to the house for another Quick Quotes Quill; he made a point of breaking the one that she had been using and slipping it into her bag before sending her on her way.

Harry then Apparated to Diagon Alley. There was one last thing to do, and he would take great pleasure in it. He made his way to the flat that he and Ron shared and dismantled the Ministry surveillance wards. Then he spent several minutes putting his own security wards in their place before going down to the shop and repeating the process.

He sagged against the shop counter as he cast the final ward, a sudden weariness assailing him. He glanced at the clock and saw to his surprise that it almost eight o'clock. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the tension in his tired muscles. He'd expended a great deal of magical energy in a very short time, and had spent the past few hours doing difficult and exacting memory modifications. So it was hardly surprising that he was exhausted. It was a wonder he was still standing.

"Home, food then bed," he muttered to himself as he reset the security wards on the shop, then silently Disapparated.

-----

Ron strode out of the living room into the hallway, grabbed Harry and pulled him into a fierce hug.

"I was starting to get worried. What took so long? I -"

"Ron, shut up," Harry said as he slipped an arm around his neck and pulled Ron in for a kiss. Ron moaned and brought a hand up to tangle in Harry's hair as he kissed him back. There was a squeak and a crash, and Harry tore his mouth from Ron's and quickly turned towards the sound.

"Fuck," he muttered as he saw Hermione standing in the living room doorway, her eyes wide, a hand over her mouth and a broken glass at her feet. She backed away, slowly shaking her head.

"Oh yeah, and Hermione's still here," Ron said.

"Yeah, I spotted that," Harry replied. A sweep of his hand had the mess cleaned up as Ron headed back into the living room after Hermione. Harry followed him, and was immediately tackled from behind by a hysterical house-elf talking nineteen to the dozen. Harry dropped to his knees to give Dobby a hug and reassure him that everything was fine, and then he asked him to bring them some glasses and a bottle of brandy.

Hermione was perched on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. She glared at Harry as he pressed a glass of brandy into her hand. She emptied the glass in one swallow, gasped, and then thrust the glass out again. Harry sloshed more brandy into it, but this time she just took a sip. Harry glanced at the hearth and the fire flared up; Hermione looked like she was going into shock and would need the extra warmth. Ron scooted closer to her and draped an arm around her shoulders, but Hermione shrugged him off brusquely.

"What the fuck is going on, Harry?" Hermione said, her voice clipped and her anger apparent. "I was kidnapped. By Percy, of all people. And then I'm kept prisoner here by wards that kept attacking me. And Dobby was shouting at me because Winky was getting upset. What the hell is Winky doing here, anyway? She's not a free elf. Then Ron shows up and won't do anything except tell me that we're stuck here until you get back from the Ministry, because he'd been kidnapped but you'd rescued him and the Minister had tried to capture you, and then I find out that you've been... I see you and Ron..."

"Kissing. I was kissing Ron, Hermione," Harry said. "Oh! Hang on a second." He placed his hand on the wall, closed his eyes for a moment and there was a brief flash of light. "Just had to let Percy know everyone was okay," he explained. "He was really worried about you, Ron."

Ron shook his head. "Percy? Really? You have to tell me -"

"Shut up!" Hermione leapt to her feet. She jabbed her finger at Harry's chest and said, "I want a full explanation from you. But first, I need to go home. Immediately. We were supposed to have been going out to dinner with Richard's family this evening. It would have been the first time I'd met some of them. Goodness only knows what they must be thinking, and Richard must be worried sick. I would have asked Percy to let him know what was happening if I'd had some warning, but that blasted Portkey activated before I could do anything."

Hermione's voice grew shriller as she spoke, and Harry winced. His head was throbbing now, and he felt vaguely nauseous.

"That blasted Portkey saved you from ending up in a cell with Ron," Harry said irritably.

"Actually, it didn't," Hermione retorted. "We were already well away from the Ministry building when it was used. I could have helped you. I should be been there, helping you. I thought we were a team. But I've certainly been disabused of that idea." She glared at both of them. "You treated me like some helpless little girl that needed the big strong men to keep her safe. Or was it just that you didn't trust me? Because you've obviously been keeping things from me. I thought all our years of friendship counted for something, but I was obviously deluding myself. If you didn't want my help, the least you could have done was let me go home. Not lock me up here."

"It's not a case of not trusting you, Hermione, and I wasn't treating you as though you were helpless," Harry said wearily. "But I could see no point in dragging you into a dangerous situation. I wanted you somewhere safe because I had no idea if anyone else was looking for you, or waiting for you at your flat or something."

"You thought someone was waiting at my flat? What about Richard? I know you don't care what happens to him -"

"That's not fair," Harry interrupted quickly. "I'm sure nobody went your flat. And even if they had, they wouldn't have touched him."

Harry screwed his eyes shut for a moment as a particularly sharp stab of pain shot through his head. Ron was giving him worried looks, and he put a hand on Hermione's arm as he said, "Hermione, I think you should calm down and listen to what -"

"I wasn't talking to you," Hermione snapped as she shook off Ron's hand and glared at Harry. "You can't be certain of that. Something could have happened to him while I was stuck in this bloody house. I need to go, now."

"For fuck's sake," Harry ground out. "You want to go? Fine. Go! But I'm telling you now, he's fine. About the only person Scrimgeour wasn't out to get today was your stupid fucking boyfriend, all right?"

Hermione's hand lashed out and she slapped Harry hard across the face as she shouted, "How dare you!" Then her hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him with wide eyes. A sob was torn from her, and she crumpled as Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He sank down onto the couch, Hermione clinging to him desperately. Ron disappeared into the kitchen, coming back moments later with a phial in his hand. Hermione was still sobbing, mumbling that she'd been worried sick about him and Richard, and that they'd waited and waited until she'd grown convinced that something had gone wrong and they weren't there to help him. That they were stuck in the house while Harry could have been lying dead somewhere.

"Calming Draught," Ron mouthed to Harry. Harry smiled his thanks as Ron placed the phial in his hand. He eased Hermione's grip a little, opened the phial and tapped the end to her lips. She protested, but once Harry promised to go and get Richard immediately, she opened her mouth and swallowed the liquid, grimacing at the taste, and her sobbing gradually diminished as she fell into an exhausted sleep in Harry's arms.

"Is she asleep?" Ron asked. "She must have been in a right state. Calming Draught doesn't usually do that." He raised his eyebrows as he looked at Harry, and Harry just shrugged.

"I might have though that she could do with a nap. Maybe," he said finally in answer to Ron's unspoken question. It certainly wouldn't be the first time his magic had apparently acted on a vague desire or random thought. Oddly enough, Ron seemed totally unfazed by Harry's magical hiccoughs. They scared the piss out of Harry, though; he was only too aware of how dangerous his random thoughts could be.

"It doesn't matter," Ron said as he gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "She could do with the rest, anyway."

Harry nodded. He settled Hermione down onto the couch, tucked a cushion under her head and summoned a warm blanket, which he draped over her. Then he cast a light silencing charm so she wouldn't be disturbed and beckoned to Ron to follow him out to the kitchen.

Dobby poured them a large mug of coffee each, and handed Harry a pain-killing potion. He swallowed it quickly, sighing as the pounding began to abate and he felt his head clear a little.

"Remind me to give you a pay rise, Dobby," Harry said as he gratefully took a sip of the hot, strong coffee. "Is Winky okay?"

"Harry Potter Sir is so good to worry about Winky," Dobby gushed. "Winky is a bit upset, but she will be fine."

"Well, you go and take care of her, Dobby. We'll manage."

"If Harry Potter is sure?"

Even as Dobby spoke he was sidling towards his den, and at Harry's nod he vanished. Harry huffed softly and shook his head. Then he put his cup down on the kitchen table, slipped his arms around Ron and kissed him. "You okay, love?"

"Yeah. I wasn't really that worried. I knew you'd be fine. I was just concerned that you'd hit a snag or something." Ron gently ran a thumb over the red handprint on Harry's face. "Not a scratch on you till you got home."

Harry snorted softly and quickly healed his face. "I'm sorry I took so long," he said. "It got a bit more complicated than I thought it would."

Ron raised an eyebrow in silent query, but Harry shook his head. "You'll hear all about it soon enough, because I'm sure Hermione's going to insist on a blow by blow account."

Ron sniggered as he tightened his hold on Harry, who slipped a hand down to cup Ron's arse.

"Not that sort of blow," Harry said with a smirk. "There hasn't been any of that today, more's the pity. Though we could fix that right now, if you're interested?" Harry said, rocking his hips as he groped Ron's arse. He was still desperately tired, but now that his headache had gone he felt a little better. And having Ron in his arms was definitely having its usual effect on him.

"Fuck, Harry, don't do that with Hermione in the next room," Ron said with a groan.

"But she's asleep. With a silencing charm around her," Harry said against Ron's neck, alternating his words with open-mouthed kisses as he sucked on the heated skin. Ron shuddered against him.

"You promised her you'd go and get Richard," Ron protested weakly.

"And I will," Harry said. He gave a little push and Ron's back hit the wall. Then Harry slipped a hand between them and began unbuttoning Ron's trousers. "I'll be really quick. We'll keep our clothes on and everything," he mumbled. He nipped at Ron's lips before deepening the kiss as he wrapped his hand firmly around Ron. He pumped him slowly as they kissed, then gasped as he felt Ron fumbling with the zip on his jeans. Ron's hand felt cool around his heated flesh, and Harry moaned into Ron's mouth.

"I love you," Harry whispered against Ron's lips, then he dropped to his knees. It wasn't long before they both shuddered their release.

Ron slid down the wall to slump next to Harry on the floor. He reached out and pulled Harry into a kiss, giving a little satisfied sigh. "Love how I taste on your lips," he said. "But I wish you'd waited for me." He gave a Harry a disappointed look. "I wanted to return the favour."

"I wouldn't have lasted, Ron. I was just about there before we even started," Harry admitted sheepishly.

He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand. Ron grasped it and Harry pulled him upright.

"Do you think she's going to be okay? About you and me, I mean. She seemed a bit..." Ron shrugged as he finished buttoned up his trousers.

Harry sighed. "I don't know. I hope so. You know Hermione. She can be a bit irrational at times. I'm sure she'll be okay once she calms down a bit."

"You're probably right. It would have been a bit of a shock for her, I suppose, seeing us like that with no warning," Ron said ruefully. "It would have been the last straw, I reckon. I didn't tell you that I found her Stunned when I first got here, did I? Dobby said she'd ignored his warnings about the wards, so when they Stunned her he just left her like that. I was a bit annoyed with him, to be honest. But after I revived her, I could see his point. Once she found out that I didn't really know anything, and that I wouldn't let her through the wards, she gave me hell. Wouldn't surprise me if it was her time of the month or something, the way she was carrying on."

"Her what?" Harry asked with a frown.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, mate. I know you haven't had that much to do with women, but even you must have noticed that Hermione turns into a harpy once a month."

"Oh!" Harry felt his face heat up as he realised what Ron was talking about. "Right. That. Um, well, I'm sorry, Ron. She probably should have gone home, then. I just wanted to be sure you two were safe. I didn't mean to put you through all that."

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron said as he picked up his coffee. "Not like I'm not used to her screaming and throwing things at me. But we do need to decide what we're going to do about Richard. He's probably climbing the walls by now, and you did promise Hermione that you'd bring him here."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Harry said with a marked lack of enthusiasm. What he really wanted to do was dump Hermione back at her flat and then take Ron to bed and stay there for a week. But there was no way that Hermione would stand for that, and if he tried it she'd only make him suffer for it. Better to get it over with.

"We're going to have to trust him sooner or later," Ron said, misinterpreting Harry's obvious reluctance. "He is marrying our best friend, after all. Though I'd do a quick check, if you get my drift," Ron tapped the side of his head, "just to make sure he's all right. Oh, and by the way, find your bloody wand before you do anything else. Hermione was pretty hysterical, so you might have got away with it, but Richard's bound to notice if you aren't waving it around."

Harry nodded slowly, held out his hand and plucked a wand from thin air. He tucked it into his back pocket.

"Fair enough. I'll go and get him now, then, I suppose. I won't be long."

He dropped a kiss on Ron's cheek and silently vanished.

-----

Harry Apparated into the hallway outside Hermione's flat and knocked on the door. It was flung open by a tall, dark haired man whose elegant suit looked somewhat rumpled. He looked worried, and he stared blankly at Harry for a moment before barking, "You! Get in here," as he grabbed Harry by the arm and hauled him into the flat.

"Where is she? She's two hours late, and she's never late. She's not at her parents' place, and I've had those bloody Weasley twins Flooing me saying they can't find you or Ron. What the fuck is going on, Potter? Where's Hermione?"

"She's fine. She's at my house with Ron. Calm down for -"

"Calm down? Hermione would never have just gone off without leaving a message for me. What's happened to her? I've been worried sick and -"

Richard suddenly froze and then slowly crumpled to the floor. Harry stared at him dispassionately for a moment before levitating him off the floor and dumping him onto the couch. He had reached his limit as far as hysterical people were concerned, and enough was enough. He ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled loudly, and then decided he'd better Floo the twins and sort them out. He knelt in front of the fire and threw in a handful of Floo powder.

"Harry? Where the hell have you been? Ron told Lee that he was popping out for an hour or so to see Hermione, and nobody's seen him since. We Floo'd Hermione's flat, and that bloke of hers said she hadn't come home yet, either. And nobody had any idea how to get hold of you."

"Ron's fine, I'm fine, Hermione's fine. Everybody just got their wires crossed, that's all. Did Lee manage all right?"

"Yeah, he didn't mind. So where did you all disappear off to, then?"

"We had something to take care of," Harry said, shooting the twin a quelling glance.

"None of my business, right, I get it. I suppose I'd better Floo Mum and let her know you're all okay, then."

"Fucking hell, did you have to worry her? We're big boys now, you know?"

"She won't be too bothered. We said you'd probably got caught up somewhere."

Harry sighed loudly. "Right. Fine. Look, I've got to get going."

"See you later. Oh, are you and Ron still going to the Burrow for lunch on Sunday?"

"Yes."

"We'll see you there, then. And don't worry, I'll square things with Mum."

"You'd bloody well better," Harry muttered as he climbed wearily to his feet. He walked over to Richard, grabbed his arm and Side-Along Apparated him back to the house. They appeared in the hallway and as Harry looked at the body lying at his feet, he sighed. He slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Give you a bit of trouble, did he?"

Harry opened his eyes to see Ron nudge the body on the floor with his foot. Then Ron stepped over Richard's inert form and gathered Harry into his arms. Harry nestled his face in the crook of Ron's neck as he soaked up the comfort of the strong arms around him.

"I just want to go to bed and sleep for a week," he mumbled against Ron's neck. "Why are people so bloody difficult?"

"Beats me," Ron said.

"He started carrying on about everyone being missing; we can thank the twins for adding fuel to that one, but I've sorted them out. I've had enough, Ron."

"Yeah, it's been an eventful day, what with one thing and another," Ron said as he gently rocked Harry in his arms. "We should probably get him up off the floor in a minute, though, or Hermione'll skin us alive."

Harry nodded into Ron's neck, pressed a soft kiss to the warm skin under his lips then reluctantly pulled out of Ron's arms. He revived Richard, who blinked and then stared around, a look of panic on his face.

Harry swore and said, "Forgot about the bloody _Fidelius_," as he pulled out his wallet, fumbled a piece of paper out of it and thrust it in front of the confused man's face. Richard peered at it and then flinched, presumably at the shock of suddenly finding himself in a strange hallway. Ron hoisted him up off the floor, steered him into the kitchen and dumped him into a chair. Then he shoved a cup of coffee in front of him as Harry said, "Hermione's asleep in the other room, so keep your voice down, right? In fact, you should probably not say anything at all, because I've had a really bad day and my patience has run very, very thin."

Richard immediately jumped up and headed towards the living room, but Ron grabbed him and hauled him back to his seat.

"I really wouldn't, mate," Ron said as he and Harry sat down, Ron next to Richard, and Harry directly opposite.

Richard glared at Harry, who took the opportunity to ghost into his mind. His love for Hermione and desperate worry about her were at the forefront of his thoughts. There was an odd mixture of admiration, resentment and jealousy of Ron and Harry, in part because of the close friendship they shared with Hermione. The root seemed to be his own insecurity and worry that Hermione would realise that she should be with one of them, and not Richard. He knew that Hermione had had a relationship with Ron, a hero of the war, and he was totally and completely in awe of Harry, which Harry found somewhat disconcerting.

Harry moved deeper into Richard's mind and found that he shared Hermione's idealism, liberal views and vision for the future of the wizarding world. He was prepared to fight for it, if necessary. He had no love for Scrimgeour and his cronies. Harry gently pulled out, satisfied that they could trust the man, especially if they could assure him that they were absolutely no threat as far as his relationship with his fiancee was concerned. Richard blinked rapidly then picked up his coffee cup. The whole thing had taken only a couple of seconds.

"Hermione's fine. She's just had a stressful day. She couldn't contact you because I needed her completely safe while I took care of something. It's all over now, though," Harry explained.

"Safe? Safe from what?" Richard said, a look of alarm on his face.

"Just safe," Harry said shortly.

Richard glared at Harry for a moment and then sighed and said, "Look, I need to see her for myself and make sure that she's all right."

"And I'm starving," Ron announced. "So how about Richard goes in to check on Sleeping Beauty in there and we dig something out of the cold cupboard."

Richard immediately got to his feet and headed into the living room, and Harry quickly cancelled the silencing charm he'd placed around Hermione.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"We can trust him."

"Fair enough," Ron said as he pulled the freezer door open. "Okay, what are we having for dinner?" He began sorting through the piles of boxes, and was still arguing the merits of shepherd's pie as opposed to lasagne with Harry as Richard and Hermione walked in from the living room.

Ron ducked his head out of the freezer and said, "What do you two want to eat? I can't decide."

"Food? You're thinking about food?"

"Bloody hell, lighten up, Hermione, will you?" Ron said. "I'm starving here. We can talk while we're eating."

"All you ever think about is your stomach, Ronald Weasley. There are more important things in the world than what you're having for dinner, you know."

The familiar banter sounded strained, and Hermione's smile looked tentative. Ron winked at her and shot her a cheeky grin before turning his attention back to the freezer. Harry smiled and gave her a small nod, and Hermione's smile became genuine, her relief clear as the tension seemed to drain out of her.

Harry smiled broadly at a bemused Richard. "You probably haven't eaten yet, either. How does lasagne and garlic bread sound?"

Harry nudged an indecisive Ron out of the way and picked up four boxes, which he dumped on the table. With an ostentatious wave of his wand the table was laid, the food was heated and on the plates, and a bottle of wine opened itself.

"Brilliant!" said Ron as he sat down and immediately dug in.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you. No manners at all," Hermione said as she sat down. She shook her head reprovingly, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the wide grin on her face.

"Growing boy, here," Ron said.

Richard just stood staring at Harry.

"Sit down, Richard," Hermione said. "Harry's about to explain everything to us, aren't you, Harry?"

Harry, however, refused to say a word until he'd cleared at least half his plate and drunk a glass of wine. By which time Ron had already finished his meal and was rummaging about in the freezer for dessert. Harry summoned another bottle of wine and then poured himself a drink before topping up the other glasses.

"Right, Hermione," he said. "Ron and I have decided that we can trust Richard with a few of the more interesting details. You going to be okay with that?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I'm assuming you've done a little foraging?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, but I had to make sure," Harry replied.

Hermione sighed. "You'd better have an extremely good reason for this, Harry. He's not an Occlumens, you know. You're going to have to shield him."

"Now just hold on a minute," Richard said. "I am sitting right here, you know? Would someone like to explain just what the bloody hell is going on here?"

Ron dropped into his seat again and tumbled a handful of small boxes onto the table. "Afters," he said triumphantly. "Richard, mate, what has Hermione told you about what we did after we left Hogwarts?" Before Richard could reply, however, Ron said, "Bugger it. Forgot the bowls."

Harry absently held out a hand and gave Ron the dish and spoon that appeared there.

"Cheers, mate," Ron said.

Richard's jaw dropped.

"He knows about the Horcrux hunt, Ron. What's your point?" Hermione said impatiently, apparently missing Harry's wandless feat.

"The point I was trying to make, Hermione, is that we're all very strong Occlumens and Legilimens, because of having to protect ourselves during the war. I was trying to explain that so that I could lead up to the fact that Harry just used Legilimency on Richard to check him out."

Richard was still gaping at Harry. "How did you do that? I..." He paused, furrowed his brow and then said, "Hang on a minute, you mean you read my mind?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, and I'm not going to apologise for it. I had to be certain we could trust you, and I wouldn't ask Hermione to risk her relationship with you like that. Once you hear about what happened today, you'll understand why I had make sure." Harry took a sip of wine, then continued, "About two o'clock this afternoon, I received a message from Percy. He's been my spy in the Ministry for quite some time, and he asked to meet me urgently. He told me that Ron had been taken by Scrimgeour, and that he'd used the emergency Portkey to get Hermione to safety because he'd been ordered to take her, too. So I went to the Ministry, got Ron out of there, did some creative Obliviations and memory modifications, took care of one or two other bits of business and then came home."

"I can see I shall have to apologise to Percy," Ron said as he put one of the dessert packs on his bowl and tapped it with his wand.

Hermione was staring at her plate, a pensive look on her face. Her head shot up suddenly and she said, "So that coded message I was told to pass on to you was from Percy?"

Harry nodded.

"You could have told me, Harry," she said reproachfully. "But then, you seem to have been keeping a lot of secrets from me."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you. But we haven't been together that long, not really, and we couldn't risk talking about our relationship -"

"Not that," Hermione interrupted. "I mean, obviously I'm hurt that you didn't tell me, but I can understand why you kept it to yourselves. I meant the fact that you can still do wandless magic." She smiled thinly at Harry's look of surprise. "If you're trying to hide it, you've done a terrible job. And Ron seems to know all about it."

"Yeah, well, that was kind of unavoidable," Harry said. "He worked it out for himself." He smiled fondly at Ron, and then frowned as he saw him poking experimentally at Richard's arm with his spoon. Richard appeared to be frozen in place, staring at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him before.

"I think you broke him," Ron said before seemingly losing interest and turning his attention back to his apple pie and custard. He finished it in two spoonfuls, then gazed longingly at the other boxes sitting on the table. Harry rolled his eyes and pushed one of them towards Ron, who smiled at him and picked it up.

Hermione huffed loudly. "If we can get away from Ron's stomach for two seconds, I think I probably need to take Richard into the living room and explain some things to him. And then we can finish this discussion, Harry."

"You do that," Harry said agreeably. "Ron and I will clear up in here and bring some coffee through."

Hermione stood up, then tugged at Richard's arm until he rose to his feet almost mechanically. She led him through to the living room, and Harry poked his head through the archway and called after her, "Give him a brandy, it's good for shock. Or I've got some Calming Draught if you want it."

Hermione made a very unladylike gesture and Harry laughed as he turned his attention back to Ron, who was just finishing off his second dessert. The pair of them quickly cleaned up the kitchen and put some coffee on to brew, and then Harry decided that he'd like some dessert, too. So he pinned Ron against the wall and kissed him rather thoroughly. Much better than apple pie and custard, in Harry's opinion.

-----

Ron carried the coffee through into the living room and put the tray on the coffee table while Harry transfigured a side table into a comfortable two-seater couch. He sighed as he sat down next to Ron, who put a hand on Harry's thigh and gave it a quick squeeze.

Hermione poured everyone a cup of coffee, and then gave Harry a pointed look. "I think we can all agree that you need to expand a little on what you've told us, Harry," she said.

Harry picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, then said, "Well, as I've already said, I was contacted by Percy. I met him at the Shrieking Shack and he told me that he'd managed to get you to safety, Hermione, but that Ron had been taken and was locked in the dungeons next to Courtroom Ten. So I went to the Ministry to see Scrimgeour. It didn't take long to work out that he was insane. He started ranting and raving at me, saying that the only reason I'd killed Voldemort and his Death Eaters was so that I could take their place. He said he knew I was planning to go to Romania to carry out Dark rituals to increase my power, using Ron, my innocent victim, as my blood sacrifice. And then he accused me of pandering to Dark creatures, Mudbloods, and other non-pureblood scum, allowing them to pollute the purity of wizardkind in my bid to become the next Dark Lord."

Hermione blinked. "You? The next Dark Lord?" she said at the same time as Ron blurted out an indignant, "Innocent victim? Me!"

"Of course he sees you as an innocent victim," Richard said slowly. Surprised eyes turned towards him as he continued, "You're a pure-blood. You've obviously been led astray, to his way of thinking. He came to a business dinner of Father's a couple of weeks ago. Some of the things he said that night are making a little more sense, now that we've heard what he said to Harry. He was talking about how our world needed to return to the traditional values, and the importance of the old families and the purity of bloodlines. Not as baldly as that, obviously. But that was the general thrust. Mother gave Great Uncle Charlus a decanter of her best port and the task of keeping the Minister away from the other guests while she and Father did some damage control. There were several foreign dignitaries at the dinner, you see. That sort of talk isn't going to help international trade. Quite the opposite."

"Um, yes, quite," Harry said faintly. The effect Scrimgeour's insanity was having on international trade wasn't something that overly concerned him right at that moment.

"So, he accused you of being the next Dark Lord," Hermione prompted.

"Right. As I said, he really didn't sound sane. At all. And it was when I used Legilimency on him that I found the curse. It was well entrenched in his mind. Must have been there for years."

"Curse? What curse?" Hermione asked, staring intently at Harry. "Are we talking about Imperius or something here? Because that would certainly explain a few things."

"Sort of," Harry said slowly. "You have to understand, it wasn't exactly Imperius, not as such. It was heavily modified. There were no commands at all. All it did was encourage his dislike of me. Any negative thoughts about me were reinforced. He was perfectly capable of acting rationally. Instead, he fell victim to his own paranoia. When I didn't immediately challenge him for control of the Ministry, he obviously decided that I was just biding my time, plotting against him. He used his own irrational hatred and fear of me as justification for his subsequent actions. And I have no doubt that he told himself it was all for the benefit of wizardkind."

Hermione and Richard were both staring at Harry with shocked looks on their faces. Ron smiled encouragingly and gave his thigh another squeeze. Harry suddenly felt tired and totally sick of the whole thing. He didn't want to rehash everything he'd been forced to do.

"Anyway, I looked at his memories, discovered who his co-conspirators were, broke Ron out of the cell, wiped some memories, destroyed the evidence, and came home. The surveillance is over. Scrimgeour is no longer a threat. That's all you need to know," Harry said wearily. "And no, I'm not going into any more detail than that." He picked up his coffee cup and drained it, then slumped wearily against the back of the couch. Ron slipped an arm around his shoulders and dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Giving Harry a mutinous look she said, "Okay. But you've left out a few details that I really think we need to discuss. You said that Voldemort had the Minister for Magic under a modified Imperius, which you discovered using Legilimency on him." At Harry's nod, she continued, "You also said that he's no longer a threat to us. What exactly does that mean, Harry? Did you remove the curse? Is he back to normal?"

"No. There was no point."

Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "I don't understand. If you didn't remove the curse then surely he's still a threat."

Harry huffed softly. "I very much doubt that, Hermione. He's probably in St. Mungo's by now."

"Oh! Well, I suppose that's for the best," Hermione said slowly. "They have specialists in Mind Magics who can remove it and help him recover. Except..." Her voice trailed off as she studied Harry's face.

He waited. She'd always been pretty good at reading him, and he didn't think it would take her long to put two and two together. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, and he would have avoided discussing it altogether, if he could. But Hermione was never one to leave anything well alone. Sure enough, after a few moments her eyes narrowed and the look she gave Harry turned to one of suspicion.

"Exactly why is he in St. Mungo's?"

"Well, I don't know that he is. I said probably."

Hermione glared at him, and Harry raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. I tweaked the curse a little, and then I did an extensive Obliviation, with a few refinements. When they examine him, they'll find the remnants of a full Imperius. They'll also discover that the strain of fighting it was apparently too much, and that his mind shattered. I left him lying on the couch in his office, sucking his thumb. I doubt that he even remembers his own name at this point."

"That's horrible! How could you do that?" Hermione cried.

"He'll recover eventually," Harry said with a shrug. "Take a few years, though, I imagine, and he'll never be capable of working for the Ministry again, but then that was the point. As I said, he's no threat any more."

"But to break his mind like that, Harry..." She looked horrified. From Hermione's perspective, it was obviously a fate worse than death.

"What exactly was I supposed to do, Hermione?" Harry said wearily. "He was already insane. He didn't invite me in for afternoon tea and a chat, you know. He kidnapped Ron and locked him in the bloody dungeons. The only reason you weren't in there with him was because Percy slipped you the Portkey and then lied, saying he'd missed you."

Hermione shook her head. "I understand that, but surely there was something else you could have done. No one deserves that, Harry, especially someone who really wasn't responsible for his actions."

Harry pushed himself out of Ron's loose hold to hunch forward. He glared at Hermione and said, "Did you not listen to a word I said? He wasn't under the fucking Imperius, Hermione. Voldemort implanted a tiny suggestion. That's it. He did the rest of it himself."

"That doesn't give you the right to be judge, jury and executioner, Harry! You -"

"Fucking lay off, Hermione," Ron interrupted angrily. "You know Harry wouldn't do anything like that if he didn't have a bloody good reason."

"Don't you dare speak to her like that," Richard said heatedly.

"I'll speak to her any way I bloody well want to," Ron shouted back.

Harry pushed himself to his feet and said loudly, "Enough!" Everyone immediately fell silent. "Thank you," Harry said as he stepped over to the fireplace. He stood in front of it, staring into the flames, allowing the hypnotic effect of the flickering firelight to calm his mind as he pondered the wisdom of what he was about to say. But he knew Hermione well enough to know that she would keep pushing until she uncovered the real reason Harry had acted in such a drastic way. And Ron deserved to know the truth.

"You're not going to leave this alone, are you? You want to know why I did it? Fine. Remember telling me about the Wardstones that everybody was panicking about, Hermione? I found all four of them. One in each corner of Ron's cell. Scrimgeour had rigged them so that opening the door to Ron's cell triggered the ward. The nullifying field doesn't kill you instantly. Did you know that? You take a couple of minutes to die. But you can't escape. He wanted me to die in that cell knowing that I'd killed the man I love." Harry swallowed hard, then continued, "But just in case I took too long getting to the Ministry, or decided not to walk into his trap, he'd left Ron his wand. He was only Stunned. He'd have woken up on his own and - and it still would have been my fault, and -"

Harry jerked as he felt strong arms slip around him, and he let his head fall back to rest on Ron's shoulder. Ron's arms tightened, and Harry felt him nuzzle at his ear for a moment before Ron whispered, "You cast a silencing charm on us all, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. This was getting out of hand. "Sorry," he muttered as he cancelled the charm that he'd unconsciously cast.

"Don't worry about it," Ron said softly. "You're just stressed, that's all."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "I should have known you wouldn't do something like that without a very good reason."

"Yeah, you should have," Ron said.

Harry turned to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were wet. Richard has his arm around her protectively and looked equally shaken.

"You two probably need to talk and..." Harry shook his head. He gave Ron a nudge, and nodded quickly towards the kitchen. Ron picked up the coffeepot, and Harry followed him out into the kitchen, leaving Hermione and Richard sitting on the couch together, talking softly.

"They're not the only ones who need to talk," Ron said as he began making a fresh pot of coffee. "You didn't say anything about stones, or death wards or Scrimgeour trying to kill us when you were convincing me to abandon you in the Ministry."

Harry walked up behind Ron and slid his arms around Ron's waist. "It was all over by then, so there wasn't any point," he said.

"Not good enough, mate," Ron said as he turned in Harry's arms. "But unlike some other people, I can tell when you've had enough and don't want to talk about something. So I'm going to let it go, for now. But you've got some explaining to do tomorrow, okay?"

Harry stared into Ron's eyes, and saw only understanding. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," Ron said as he slipped a hand behind Harry's head and pulled him into a kiss.

The coffeepot bubbled away merrily for quite some time.

-----

When they returned to the living room, bearing fresh coffee and some snacks that Ron had discovered in the cupboard, they found Richard standing in front of the shelf of DVDs, sorting through them. Ron immediately joined him and started telling Richard about the amazing Muggle moving picture shows he'd seen, while Richard talked enthusiastically about visits to Hermione's parents and a couple of visits to the cinema to see films. Harry left them to it and sat down next to Hermione.

"I thought you were growing the beans yourself," she said with a shaky grin. "Want one?"

At Harry's nod, Hermione poured them each a fresh cup of coffee.

"You and Richard weren't the only ones who needed to talk," Harry said.

"Of course. And... I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "I shouldn't have pushed like that. I should have known -"

"Shhh, it doesn't matter," Harry said as he reached over and gave Hermione's hand a quick squeeze. "It's over. That's the important thing."

Hermione nodded, then took a deep breath and reached for her coffee cup. She took a sip, then said, "I've been giving some thought as to what's going to happen at the Ministry. Now that Scrimgeour's out of the picture, I mean. Because traditionally, the head of the DMLE is next in line for the office. I know Arthur's appointment is still provisional, but I don't think that'll make any difference. There really isn't anybody else, and Arthur is rather high profile at the moment."

"I wondered about that myself," Harry said slowly. "From our perspective, he's the ideal candidate." He stared thoughtfully at Hermione for a moment, then continued, "I think it's probably time I took a more active involvement in politics, don't you?"

Hermione met his gaze, then huffed softly. "I think Arthur will be surprised at how much support he has."

A sudden burst of laughter drew Harry's attention to Ron and Richard, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves as they rifled though his DVD collection.

"Richard seems to be taking everything rather well, all things considered," Harry said after a moment.

"Yes, he does. I mean, I know he shares my views on our society, and he was horrified to hear about the Ministry persecution we've endured due to Scrimgeour's paranoia. He's shocked at what happened, obviously, but he agrees that you had no choice." She gave Harry a defensive glance as she added, "I thought it best that he believes your wandless ability to be temporary and gradually fading. I'm assuming it's permanent, though."

"Seems to be. And I'm not disagreeing with what you did. In fact you told him exactly what I expected you to. It's safer for everyone."

Hermione nodded. "My thoughts exactly. Anyway, as I said, I really didn't expect any problems there. But I must confess, Harry, he really surprised me with the way he took the news of your relationship with Ron. He seemed almost pleased. I'm so proud of him, Harry, to get past his prejudiced upbringing that way."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and concentrated very hard on not laughing at that piece of news as he mentally congratulated Richard. He'd earned himself Hermione's undying admiration and loyalty for his mature and accepting attitude towards her best friends, while probably feeling such relief at learning that the only two people he saw as serious competition for his fiancee's favours were in a relationship with each other, that the thought of condemning their 'unnatural behaviour' never entered his head.

"And what about you? You seemed a bit shocked when you saw us in the hallway earlier."

Hermione bit her lip, then shifted in her seat so that she was facing Harry. "It was a shock, seeing him kissing you the way he used to kiss me." She shook her head and laughed. "God, that sounds pathetic. It was just one of those little jolts you get when nostalgia hits, you know? Blame it on my sky-high stress levels at that moment. I really am happy for you both." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I'd actually suspected that you felt more than friendship for Ron for a quite some time. Long before the war ended, actually. But once we were all sharing the flat, I was certain of it."

Harry stared at Hermione in surprise. Suddenly things clicked into place. "Is that why you tried to get Ron to move out of Diagon Alley," he said slowly. "Because of me?"

"Of course. I'm not going to deny it, Harry. But it wasn't because of anything you did," she added quickly. She took a sip of her coffee, then said, "Try to see it from my point of view. We were engaged. I couldn't imagine life without Ron. He'd always been there. In a lot of ways, though, he was very emotionally immature. I watched him grow more and more attached to you, but he didn't see the significance of that. Not then, anyway. And I knew how you felt about him. So I thought I'd act before it was too late. It was a stupid thing to do. I took one look at his face when I told him that I'd found us another flat, and I knew I'd lost." Hermione snorted softly. "He chose you, and he didn't even understand why."

Harry placed his hand over Hermione's. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I only ever wanted to see you two happy."

"I know that. And it made it worse, somehow. I wanted to blame you, you see, but I couldn't. Because you hadn't done anything. And really, once I'd sorted myself out a bit, I realised it was for the best. Ron and I had become a habit. It wasn't until I met Richard that I realised I'd never been in love with Ron. I mean I loved him, but I love you, too. You're the best friends anyone could ever ask for. It should have stayed that way, really. I'm so glad we didn't lose that."

Ron picked that moment to wander back over to the couch. "You two getting into the deep and meaningful conversations already? I haven't had nearly enough to drink yet to cope with that." He looked at them both carefully for a moment, then said, "We okay?"

Harry smiled and nodded, and Hermione said, "Yes, Ron, we're okay. I'm really happy for you both."

Richard appeared by Ron's side, brandishing a brightly coloured DVD case.

"Can we watch this one?" Richard asked. "It sounds really good." He cast a wistful look at the large television and added, "I'd love something like this at home. But we live in a wizarding area."

"Yeah, this sort of Muggle stuff wouldn't work," Ron agreed as he took the DVD and showed Richard how to put it in the player.

Harry and Hermione continued to talk quietly as their respective partners laughed and pointed things out to each other as they watched the film. Hermione admitted that she had absolutely no idea what could have happened to Harry's magic, but promised to do some discreet research and let him know what she found.

By the time the film finally ended, Harry was yawning widely and finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. Hermione tactfully refused Ron's offer of more coffee, and Harry gave a sigh of relief as he watched them Disapparate from the hallway.

Ron steered him up the stairs, and Harry tumbled gratefully into bed, falling asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

-----

Note: edited to fit rating. Unabridged version available on my lj


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

-----

Harry's eyes flew open. His heart was pounding as he fought against the heavy body pinning him down. Someone was screaming. He had to get away. He had to -

"Harry! Wake up, mate, please. I've got you, it's okay, I've got you."

"Ron?" His voice cracked, and he coughed violently. Strong arms dragged him into a sitting position, and a moment later he felt a glass pressed to his lips. He gulped greedily at the cool water, almost choking in his haste to swallow.

"Not so fast," Ron said softly as he took the glass away. "How's your throat?"

Harry blinked as he peered at Ron. As reality finally asserted itself, he sighed and forced himself to relax. He was in bed. With Ron.

"It's okay. Better now I've had a drink. I'm sorry, Ron."

"Don't be a prat," Ron said emphatically. "After what happened yesterday, I'm not surprised you're having a few nightmares. It's a wonder I haven't had a few myself, all things considered."

Harry slumped back against the pillows, and Ron slipped an arm around him and pulled him close. "Want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head. It seemed that Ron's kidnapping had blown a hole in his mental defences. This was the third time Ron had woken him from the heart-pounding, sweat-soaked visions of hell that currently passed for his dreams.

Deciding that it was pointless trying to get any more sleep, Harry dropped a kiss on Ron's cheek and said, "I think I'll get up. Have a cup of tea or something. You try and get a bit more sleep, love."

He dragged himself down to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He'd just dropped a tea bag into his cup when he heard the kitchen door open.

"White and two, thanks."

"I thought you were going to try to get a bit more kip?"

"Nah, I'm awake, now," Ron said as he dragged out a chair and dropped into it. "And I've got to be up for work, anyway."

Ron looked worn out, and Harry knew that he probably looked no better himself. "You know what?" he said. "You're having a day off. We'll Floo the twins and tell them to get Lee to open up today. He's going to be taking over the shop anyway, so he might as well get some practice in."

"I don't know, Harry," Ron said. "It's short notice. He might not be available."

Harry shrugged. "See how you feel after you've had a cuppa and a shower, eh?"

Ron nodded and Harry turned his attention back to their tea. He had no intention of letting Ron go to work today. He didn't care if the twins had to come and run the shop themselves. They owed him.

They drank their tea in silence, then showered and dressed mechanically. Harry Apparated them directly into the living room of their Diagon Alley flat and immediately told Ron to go to bed. Ron made a token protest, but Harry brooked no argument, telling him firmly that he'd sort it out.

He Floo'd the twins and told them to send Lee over for the day to manage the shop, as he and Ron were feeling ill. This was greeted with wide, knowing grins and comments about people who couldn't hold their drink. Harry gritted his teeth and smiled back, and greeted Lee with ill-disguised relief when he stepped out of the Floo half an hour later. He handed Harry two headache draughts, courtesy of the twins, and then headed down to open up the shop for the day.

Harry shoved the potions in the kitchen cabinet and then wandered into his bedroom, to find Ron sound asleep in his bed. He had expected Ron to go to his own room to try and get some undisturbed rest, but Ron had obviously had other ideas. Harry smiled fondly at the sight of the tousled head on his pillow, then quickly shrugged off his clothes and climbed in next to him, falling asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

-----

Harry's eyes flew open. He felt like he'd barely closed them a moment ago, but something had woken him. And he was getting heartily sick of being jolted awake, panting, his heart pounding. He lay still as he took deep, slow breaths, trying to calm himself. Ron's soft snoring was comforting, reassuring in its familiarity, and Harry let his eyes drift shut again. He had just decided that he must have had a nightmare that he couldn't remember when the sound of a door closing made him jump. Someone was in the flat. He eased out of bed, pulled on his trousers and a shirt, and that was when he noticed that the bedroom door was ajar. He definitely remembered closing it, but he couldn't remember locking down the Floo or setting the wards before going to bed. He'd been too tired to think straight, obviously, if he had neglected something so basic. He sighed heavily as he stepped out into the hallway, wondering who he would have to Obliviate this time.

The distinctive clink of a spoon against china led him to the kitchen, and he stopped dead in the doorway, blinking stupidly at the unexpected sight of Percy standing at the kitchen bench making a pot of tea. His back was to Harry, and Harry watched him for a moment as he pondered the strangeness of his life.

He finally dragged his wandering thoughts back to the present and said, "What are you doing here, Percy?"

Percy turned slowly towards Harry and said, "I'm here because you invited me. You told me that I should come here today to see that Ron was all right for myself."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I did say that, didn't I. Sorry, I forgot," Harry said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. He could have kicked himself for being so careless. It had completely slipped his mind. And now he had to decide what to do, because he was absolutely certain that Percy had seen Ron in his bed.

Percy placed a cup of tea in front of Harry, and had just sat down himself when Ron stumbled into the kitchen, yawning widely as he scratched his stomach.

"Wassup?" he muttered. Then he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he saw Percy.

Percy stared at Ron for a long moment, then slowly rose to his feet, walked over to Ron and awkwardly wrapped his arms around him.

"I was so worried. I'm so sorry I couldn't get to you first, but they didn't tell me," he said. "I had to come and see for myself that you were unharmed."

Ron shot a panicked look at Harry, and then tentatively patted his brother's back.

"It's okay, Perce, I'm fine, honest. Look, not a mark on me."

Ron continued to assure Percy that he was fine, and finally convinced him to sit down again. Ron took the seat next to him, and gave Harry a grateful look as he handed him a cup of tea.

Percy picked up his cup and silently sipped his tea, obviously taking a moment to pull himself together. Eventually, he put his cup down and said, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. It's just been rather stressful of late."

"It's okay. You're allowed to hug family. I won't tell anyone," Ron said with a grin.

Percy huffed softly and shook his head. "I really am glad to find you well, Ron," he said. He gave Ron a searching look, then continued, "That wasn't the only reason for my visit, however. I have some news that I think will interest you. A Ministry owl arrived first thing this morning, summoning me to a meeting in the Minister's office. Apparently his Personal Assistant found him late yesterday afternoon, curled up on the couch in his office. He was sucking his thumb, and appeared to be catatonic, so the Senior Mind Healer at St. Mungo's was discreetly summoned to the Ministry. His initial examination of the Minister indicated that he had been under the Imperius Curse, probably for years, and that he had been attempting to resist it. His mind appears to have finally broken under the strain. He was transferred to St. Mungo's, to a private suite on the fourth floor, where he will remain for the foreseeable future. The healers feel that, with intensive therapy, he should eventually recover. He will never be the man he once was, though. He will need to lead a quiet, stress-free life." He picked up his cup and added, "This is all highly confidential, of course. It wouldn't do to the alarm the public."

Harry and Ron nodded gravely.

"An official statement will be issued later this afternoon, simply informing the public that the Minister has been taken seriously ill and has had to step down from office." Percy paused for a moment, then said conversationally, "Can I assume that you've put your own privacy and security wards around the flat?" At Harry's wary nod, he continued, "I don't suppose you want to tell me how you did it? Because the timing is suspiciously convenient." He sipped placidly at his tea while Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Harry said carefully. He silently cast an extra privacy ward around the kitchen, and was surprised when Ron shot him a quick glance, a frown on his face. Harry gave him a quick, reassuring smile.

Percy eyed Harry thoughtfully. "I was the Minister's Senior Adviser, Harry. That's why I was useful to you. It also means that I'm very well aware of the security around him. There's no way anyone can get into his office undetected. The man had been Head of the Auror Office; he actively fought Dark Wizards for years. His personal protections are legendary. He's a very strong Occlumens. And yet, he apparently succumbed to the Imperius Curse and remained under it, undetected, for several years, until his astonishingly convenient mental breakdown." He glanced over at Ron. "I don't believe any of that, not for a second. He took Ron hostage at lunchtime, and by late afternoon he's a gibbering wreck. And absolutely nobody else remembers that anything out of the ordinary occurred yesterday. How did you do it? And what's Ron's involvement?"

"Leave Ron out of this," Harry said, his mind working furiously. Percy's tone had been mildly inquiring, but there was a definite undercurrent of hostility. "What's going on, Percy? You know Scrimgeour was losing his grip. It's better for all concerned this way."

"That depends, doesn't it? No matter what my family thinks of me, I've done my best to ensure their safety as far as I possibly could. All of them." Percy drained his cup, and nodded when Ron offered him a refill. He continued, "Didn't you ever wonder why the surveillance wards on this flat were so weak? Or why you were allowed to get away with disrupting them for long periods?"

Harry shook his head. "I just thought they were a bit slapdash. Until a couple of weeks ago, obviously."

Percy rolled his eyes and sighed. "No. It was because of my intervention. It was my job to monitor you. I was the one who analysed and produced the reports on the data gathered from the surveillance. My animosity towards you is well known, Harry, and I made certain that the Minister had no cause to doubt either that or my loyalty, so I was considered ideal for such a sensitive task. And you should consider yourselves fortunate that I ensured that that remained the case."

Percy picked up a teaspoon and slowly stirred his tea. He appeared perfectly calm and collected, but Harry noticed a slight tremor to his hand as he carefully placed the teaspoon back on his saucer.

"Go on," Harry prompted.

Percy glanced up at Harry, then returned his gaze to his cup. "For some time now, I have noticed certain...anomalies, shall we say, in Ron's behaviour. Then a couple of months ago there was a major shift in the way you related to each other. Even more significant was the fact that both your routines simultaneously changed, quite markedly, which is a red flag to a trained observer. If I were the sort of person to jump to conclusions, I would have had plenty of cause. And then, of course, I came here today, at your invitation I might add, and my suspicions were confirmed." He looked pointedly at both of them. "I care deeply for my family, Harry, including my brother, and I've risked everything for them, and you, so I think I deserve some answers."

For the first time since he'd entered the flat, Percy looked directly into Harry's eyes. Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"What makes you think I won't simply Obliviate you?" Harry said.

Ron made a sudden movement. "Harry? I don't -"

"He knows, Ron," Harry said softly. Ron's eyes widened, and Harry nodded.

"Oh fuck," Ron said. "I'm too tired to handle this shit." He stood up and shuffled over to the kitchen cabinet where they stored their potions. He pulled out a couple of phials, opened one and drained it. He shook his head and then handed the other phial to Harry, who swallowed its contents dutifully. "Invigoration Draught - can't beat it," Ron said, sounding much livelier than a moment before. "We can sleep it off later." He sat down again and said, "Okay, Percy, you've got something to say, so say it."

"Ron, I think -"

"He's my brother, Harry." Ron stared at Harry for a moment, and Harry nodded.

"In that case, I think I'll get us all some breakfast," Harry said as he pushed himself to his feet. He caught sight of the kitchen clock and sighed. "Make that a late lunch."

Harry opened the cupboard and stared blankly at its contents. Ron was right. Percy was his brother, and Harry would only end up making Ron angry if he didn't back off and let him fight his own battles. But he wasn't willing to leave the room, and was perfectly prepared to Obliviate Percy in a heartbeat if he had to. He shook his head quickly and started gathering ingredients as he eavesdropped on Ron and Percy's conversation. He didn't think he could concentrate enough to actually cook anything, so he decided to make sandwiches.

"Come on then, let's hear it," Ron said.

Harry turned his head slightly and caught Percy glaring at him. He quickly turned his attention back to preparing lunch and smiled as he heard Ron chuckle.

"If you think Mother Hen over there is going to leave us alone, you don't know him very well. And it concerns him, too."

"Fine." Percy's voice sounded clipped as he continued, "All the evidence points to Harry having lost none of his allegedly temporarily-borrowed magical strength, which leads me to conclude that the Ritual theory was completely erroneous. He can obviously manipulate others effortlessly, leaving no trace whatsoever. Given this, I think you'll understand my concern, Ronald. I suspect that you're..." Percy hesitated, and Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Percy cast a nervous glance in his direction. "That you're in the thrall of an obviously immensely powerful wizard. I am worried about you. You were perfectly normal; well, as normal as anyone under the influence of the twins can be. You showed no previous signs of any unnatural tendencies. But suddenly you're acting in a way that leads me to suspect that Harry may be using you for his own purposes."

Harry couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Scrimgeour accusing him of using Ron was one thing. Hearing Percy make the same accusation was something else entirely. He clenched his jaw as a fiery anger swept through him.

"Harry! Rein it in, mate. It's fine."

Harry inhaled sharply in surprise, then breathed out slowly, forcing himself to calm down as he turned to face Ron.

"What?" Percy looked totally confused at Ron's seemingly erratic outburst.

"Didn't you feel that?" Ron asked Percy, who shook his head. Ron and Harry exchanged a glance that promised further discussion, then Ron said, "Never mind. You know what, Perce? I don't know whether to laugh or punch your lights out. You want to know what's going on? Fine, I'm going to tell you. Yes, Harry is stronger than you lot think he is. Probably just as well, the way things turned out. And don't forget how he got that way. You weren't the only one putting himself at risk here; we were the idiots out there risking our lives to protect you lot." He sat back as Harry placed a plate of sandwiches in front of him.

Harry carefully placed Percy's lunch on the table, resisting the temptation to smash it in his face, and then sat down with his own. Neither Harry nor Percy seemed to have much appetite, but Ron cleared his plate and then finished off Harry's sandwiches, too.

Ron finally pushed away his empty plate, leaned back and gave a contented sigh. "That's better!" he said brightly. "Any chance of another cuppa?"

Harry rolled his eyes as got up and put the kettle on again. He made a point of not using magic in front of Percy, though it probably wouldn't matter. There was very little chance of Percy leaving the flat with his memories intact.

"Right, so where were we?" Ron said. "Oh yeah, tell me if I've got this right, Perce. I used to be normal, but now I've got unnatural tendencies, and it's all Harry's fault. That about it?"

Percy sighed. "I'm just concerned."

"Because you think he's got me under some sort of mind control, so he can, what? Have his evil way with me?" Ron waggled his eyebrows and then burst out laughing.

Percy looked alarmed. "Ron! This is serious!"

Ron shook his head. "You haven't got a fucking clue, Perce, mate. You've never understood Harry, have you? See, if I was Harry, I'd have steamed into the Ministry as soon as I'd come out of that bloody coma, Obliviated the whole fucking lot of them and never given it a second thought. Problem solved. But he's not like that. That whole Chosen One bollocks? There's a reason for that, you know? He wants to save everyone, and he cares about them. He wants to make the world a better place. You've got no idea how many people he's helping, and they've got no idea it's him doing it. What he did yesterday had to be done. You don't know all the facts, and you don't need to know. A lot of people were very unhappy with the way things were heading under Scrimgeour's Ministry. Now they've got a chance to change things for the better. A fresh start, right? And the only one agonising about any of this will be Harry, 'cause he's a pillock with a conscience the size of Hogwarts."

Harry bit his lip and gave Ron an embarrassed smile as he handed him a cup of tea.

"Ron, I'm not -"

"Yes, you are. And I wouldn't have you any other way," Ron said with a smile before turning his attention back to his brother once more. "The thing is, Percy, he could have used Legilimency on me. He could have made a few tweaks in my head and I'd never have known. But he didn't," Ron said emphatically. "So you're just going to have to live with the fact that I managed to become unnatural all on my own."

Harry wasn't quite sure exactly what he'd expected Ron to say to his brother, but hearing him say that they were together because that was what Ron wanted was like balm to Harry's soul. A tiny, niggling doubt that he hadn't even realised was there suddenly eased, and Harry knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care.

Percy sighed and said, "I apologise, Ron. I should never have used that word. It's just difficult to... Mum's always been very vocal about that particular prejudice."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's time you started thinking for yourself, Perce," Ron said, "and not just go along with what everybody else says."

"Ron's right, Percy. That sort of blind prejudice causes nothing but pain and hardship for far too many in our community, and that has to change. And it has to come from the top. It's time for the Ministry to take responsibility for the suffering it's caused, and to do something about remedying the situation."

Percy nodded. He took a sip of tea then cleared his throat. "Well, I think I can promise you some definite changes. The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot met with the Heads of Department this morning to appoint an interim Minister for Magic. Their choice met with unanimous approval. It was felt that this candidate would be a popular choice with the general populace, too. The Chief Warlock had every confidence that this candidate would be officially appointed Minister for Magic when the Wizengamot next convened, especially given his," Percy glanced at Harry, "connections."

Harry smiled as Ron snapped out, "Well, don't keep us in suspense. Who is it?"

Harry raised an eyebrow as he caught Percy's eye, and Percy gave him a small nod as he said, "Arthur Weasley."

"Thought so. They couldn't have picked a better man for the job," Harry said. Ron just stared at Percy in surprise as Harry continued, "He'll have my full support, of course, if he thinks it'll help."

Harry couldn't have planned a better outcome if he'd tried. The Weasleys were pure-bloods, and Arthur's views were moderate enough that the Traditionalists wouldn't immediately feel the need to oppose him. But at the same time he strongly believed that all magical beings should be treated fairly and equally. The random thought that Richard's parents would breathe a sigh of relief had him choking back a giggle. But it was a good point. International cooperation and trade would definitely benefit from a more open, accepting Ministry stance. Percy's laughter drew his attention back from his thoughts. Ron was smiling fondly at Harry and Percy looked amused.

"I think your support of Dad is taken as read by everyone, Harry, but he'll be pleased to know that you formally offered it," Percy said. "He refused to take the position at first, but Madam Marchbanks brooked no argument. I really think she made the right decision, and not just because he's our Dad. He made a very good impression right from the start by asking everyone for their assistance, saying that he felt that all the Heads of Department should have a real say in the running of the Ministry. It was exactly the right thing to do." Percy paused, then continued, "And he asked me to stay on as his Senior Adviser. He said my experience would be invaluable." Percy swallowed audibly and blinked rapidly, seemingly overcome by this gesture from his father.

Ron shuffled his chair closer and pulled Percy into a hug. "Welcome home, Perce," he said.

Harry cleared the table and did the washing up by hand, leaving Ron to talk quietly to his brother. By the time he'd dried the last plate and put it away, Percy had pulled himself together.

"Well, I need to get back to the Ministry," Percy said. He gave Ron a searching look. "Are you certain you know what you're doing, Ron? Is this what you really want? If this got out..." He gestured vaguely between Harry and Ron. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of any threats, Percy," Harry said mildly.

Ron snorted and said, "Down, boy!" Harry burst out laughing and Ron continued, "Percy, I know what I'm doing, and this is what I want. Now, can you accept that, and more importantly, can you keep your mouth shut, or do we need to Obliviate you?"

"Of course I can keep my mouth shut, Ron! A spy who can't keep secrets wouldn't last very long, would he?"

"Yeah, but that was only Scrimgeour. I'm talking about keeping your mouth shut around the family."

Percy gave Ron a scathing look in reply. "I assume Miss Granger knows?" he said after a moment. Harry and Ron both nodded. "Of course she does," Percy muttered. "I think I'm probably of more help if I retain my memories. I can deflect suspicion should it arise, and as to anything else, well, it's actually none of my business. You're old enough to make your own decisions, Ron. Your personal choices have absolutely nothing to do with me."

Ron stared at Percy, his surprise clear on his face. "That's it?"

Percy nodded. "Well, yes. As your older brother, I felt it incumbent upon me to ensure that you knew exactly what you were doing, and that there was no coercion involved. I'm sorry if I led you to believe that I subscribed to the prejudiced beliefs of the less enlightened members of our community, but I assure you, that is not the case. You are obviously happy with the situation and Harry is more than capable of ensuring your safety. That is all that matters."

Ron shook his head slowly as he stared at Percy. "You are unbelievable."

Harry cleared his throat. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Now that...well, now that things have changed, have you thought about going to see your mum?"

"Dad asked me the same thing. But..." Percy pressed his lips together tightly and then sighed. "I suppose my pride is getting in the way. I know that I'll be expected to go home with my tail between my legs and an abject apology on my lips. It probably sounds petty, but I've put up with a lot over the years, and I think I deserve -" Percy stopped speaking abruptly, and Harry could see a flush rising to his cheeks.

Harry felt his irritation at Percy ebb away. It must have taken a lot of courage for him say what he had in front of Harry, knowing exactly what he was capable of, and yet he hadn't backed down; he'd stood his ground in defence of his younger brother. And he had been prepared to admit that he was wrong.

Harry reached across and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "You're right. You deserve to have their respect. I know exactly how dangerous your position was. Believe me, if Scrimgeour had caught wind of what you were up to, your life wouldn't have been worth two Knuts. He really was insane at the end, Percy."

"Look, Mum's invited us over for lunch on Sunday. The twins and Ginny'll be there. You could come with us," Ron suggested.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, good idea. We can explain a few things without going into too much detail, and you know that what happened to Scrimgeour is bound to leak out to the press. They'll put two and two together themselves without us having to spell it out." Harry paused, giving Percy a moment to consider his words, then said, "So what do you think? We'll be leaving about eleven if you want to come with us."

Percy nodded slowly. "I'd like that," he said softly.

"And you might want to think about talking to your Dad about it. He's going to need to know at least some of what was going on, now he's taking over as Minister."

"Perhaps. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time, and I really do need to get back," Percy said as he rose to his feet. "I'll see you on Sunday, then."

Harry saw Percy out, then immediately closed off the Floo and set the wards, adding an extra privacy ward for good measure. He walked back into the kitchen to find Ron rummaging through the pantry. He emerged with a triumphant cry, a bar of Honeydukes chocolate in his hand.

"I knew I'd seen a bar of this in here somewhere," he said with a grin. "Invigoration Draught always give me the munchies." He broke off a square and popped it into his mouth.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said with a chuckle. Invigoration Draught had the oddest effect on Ron. An hour or so after taking it he was usually high as a kite, and Harry watched with amusement as Ron worked his way through the entire block of chocolate, singing softly to himself and nodding his head in time to the beat of a song only he could hear.

"We expecting any more visitors, or can we go back to bed?" Ron said as he threw away the empty wrapper, then he did a little dance on his way over to Harry.

"Percy was it for today," Harry said as he draped his arms loosely around Ron's neck. "So, little boy, there's nothing to stop the big bad wizard from having his evil way with you," Harry said with a leer.

Ron gave a snort of laughter. "You do know I'm much, much bigger than you, right?" he said. "And I'm older, too."

"If you're going to bring up piddling details, I shall have to find another innocent to debauch," Harry whispered into Ron's ear before nipping at the lobe and then sucking it lightly. He felt Ron shiver in his arms.

"No, that's fine, you can be the big bad wizard," Ron said as Harry swept a trail of kisses down Ron's jaw and then captured his lips, tasting chocolate as his tongue explored Ron's mouth. When they finally came up for air, Ron hooked two fingers into the waistband of Harry's jeans and towed him to his bedroom.

They tore off their clothes and fell onto the bed laughing as Harry protested, "Who's debauching who here?"

Ron flung his arms out and said, "Debauch away!"

Harry knelt up, straddling Ron's thighs, and drank in the sight before him. "Christ, Ron. Do you know how many nights I lay alone in this bed and dreamt of something like this?"

"What, you dreamt of sitting on my legs and making speeches?" Ron said with a giggle.

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly at Ron. Then he leant forward, planting a hand on either side of Ron's head. He slowly lowered his head until his lips were just brushing Ron's.

"No," he said softly. "I dreamt of you lying in my bed, naked and hard. Aching for me. I dreamt of riding you until we were both raw."

Ron's eyes widened. He reached up and suddenly Harry was dragged down into a bruising kiss. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll be feeling it for a week," Ron said as he pushed Harry onto his back. He reached over and pulled open the drawer in Harry's bedside table. After rummaging about in a haphazard manner, he flopped back down onto the bed again and said, "I can't bloody find it. Where's your lube?"

"I don't keep any here," Harry said, biting back a grin at the disappointed look on Ron's face. "I couldn't risk keeping anything even vaguely incriminating here, Ron." Then he propped himself up on his elbow, looked down at Ron and said, "Besides, are we wizards or what?"

Ron's eyes suddenly widened and he flinched. "Fuck! That's freezing. You couldn't have conjured it already warmed, you bastard?"

"Well, yeah, 'course I could. But it's more fun this way," Harry said he reached down and did his best to warm up Ron's chilly lube-covered extremity using a bit of friction.

Ron made a happy little humming sound as his eyelids fluttered closed. A moment later he cracked one eye open and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Do your wiggly thingy," he held up a hand and waggled his fingers vaguely in Harry's direction, "and climb on. I haven't got all day, you know."

Harry couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. He flapped his hand weakly as Ron glared sulkily at him and gasped out, "Sorry. You just... Sorry. I'm not laughing at you, really. I'm just feeling very happy."

This outlandish excuse obviously sounded perfectly reasonable to a potion-addled Ron, who beamed at Harry and said, "Well, I'm very happy, too. Though I'd be happier if you were over here." He waggled his eyebrows and then grabbed Harry, hauling him on top of him and kissing him sloppily.

Harry pushed himself up onto his knees, shuffling back a little so that he straddled Ron's hips, then grasped Ron firmly and slowly lowered himself.

"Fuck, you feel good," Ron gasped out, pulling his legs up to plant his feet firmly on the bed as he reached for Harry. Harry slid his hands over Ron's chest, teasing his nipples as he slowly rose and fell. Ron's hands on his hips urged him on, but Harry refused to pick up the pace. He kept his movements slow and steady, stopping every now and then to dip down and nip at Ron's lips, or suck at the heated flesh of his throat.

"Harry, you're killing me," Ron whined as Harry stopped yet again to suck at a dusky nipple. "Fucking get on with it."

"What's your hurry?" Harry said with a smirk. "Got an urgent appointment or something?" He pushed himself upright, raised himself up and then slammed down hard. Ron moaned loudly and his eyes rolled back in his head. "Is this what you want?" Harry said as he did again.

"Oh, yeah," Ron gasped. Then he groaned in protest as Harry stopped once more and leant down to kiss him.

"Bit tiring, all that, actually," Harry whispered into his ear. "I think I might need to have a rest for a bit." He took his weight on his hands again and leant back so that he could see Ron's face.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you," Ron said. The slightly goofy look was gone. The potion had obviously worn off, and Harry smiled in anticipation. "Well guess what? It's my turn now," Ron added, and in a sudden blur of motion, Harry found himself flat on his back, his legs in the air as Ron slammed into him.

"You. Are a. Teasing. Bastard," Ron ground out as he thrust almost violently into Harry, who was moaning appreciatively beneath him.

He loved it when Ron lost control like that. When he pushed him so far that Ron forgot to be vaguely ashamed of what he was doing and who he was doing it with.

"Touch yourself," Ron hissed into his ear.

Harry knew that that was Ron's way of telling him he was close. Sure enough, Ron's thrusts became increasingly erratic until, with a deep groan, his fingers clutched at Harry's shoulders hard enough to bruise as he slammed in one final time and shuddered as he emptied himself deep inside him. Harry's gaze never left Ron's face as his hand sped up. Ron kissed him and nudged Harry's hand out of the way, replacing it with his own.

"Like I said, it's my turn," Ron said. He held Harry down, pinning his hips so that he couldn't move as he slowly pumped him. Harry bit back a frustrated moan. He was so close he could taste it, but Ron was deliberately keeping him right on the edge.

"Ron," Harry whined. He tried to thrust into Ron's hand, but Ron simply loosened his grip and Harry gave a frustrated whimper.

"Beg me," Ron said softly.

"Please," Harry whispered as he stared into Ron's eyes. He reached up, his hand curving lightly around the back of Ron's neck, just resting there a moment before moving to cup the back of Ron's head, his fingers tangling in Ron's hair. "Please."

"Come for me, Harry," Ron said before crushing his lips to Harry's, swallowing his cries as Harry thrust desperately into Ron's hand until finally, wonderfully, the spiralling tension snapped and poured out of him in wave after blissful wave, leaving him curled around Ron in a sated, sweaty heap as they drifted off to sleep once more.

-----

"Harry!"

"Ngh. Wassup?"

"Sounds like someone's trying to smash the front door down."

Harry closed his eyes and swore softly. "It's a bloody conspiracy to stop us getting any sleep. You know, I wish I..." His voice trailed off as he suddenly realised that he knew who was standing outside the door. He could feel their magical signatures in the same way as he'd felt the odd brush of magic in the flat the day he'd found the extra wards.

"Well, that's new," he said softly.

"What?"

"It's Fred and George."

"Wouldn't surprise me one bit," Ron said sourly.

"No. I mean it's definitely Fred and George. I can feel their magical signatures. They're standing outside the front door. There's another one. Small. An owl, I think."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Okay. Well, that's a handy trick, I suppose. You been able to do that long?"

Harry slowly shook his head. A sudden loud banging echoed through the flat and Harry sighed loudly. "I swear, Ron, I'll be happy to leave the country just to get away from those two. What time is it?"

Ron peered at the bedside clock. "Half seven," he muttered. Another round of loud hammering at the door had Ron climbing out of bed and dragging on his jeans. He grimaced as he made to do them up, fumbled around for his wand and cast a quick cleaning charm on himself. Then he ran a hand through his hair, grabbed a shirt and said, "I'll go and see what they want," as he stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom, only to shout out a few seconds later, "Drop the wards, Harry, I can't open the bloody door."

Harry dropped the wards and closed his eyes again. The temptation to go back to sleep was almost overwhelming, but he couldn't leave Ron to deal with the twins alone. So he reluctantly crawled out of bed, quickly cleaned himself up, then he threw on a shirt and a pair of jeans and wandered out to see what was going on. He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.

"...warded tighter than a bloody Gringotts vault. We tried every unlocking charm we knew. And your Floo was out, too. Oh, and there's a message from Hermione. Her owl is psycho, mate. It kept attacking us so George finally Petrified it."

Fred and George were sitting at the table, a bedraggled clump of feathers lying between them. Ron was pouring out mugs of tea and seemed to have everything under control, so Harry slumped into a chair and stared blearily at the twins. "What do you two want?"

"Lee told us that Percy was here earlier. We just wanted to know what that wanker was doing here. But this place was locked up tighter than a virgin's -"

"Yes, it was," Harry said shortly. "We were trying to get some uninterrupted sleep."

Ron dumped four mugs of tea on the table and dropped into the chair next to Harry, yawning widely.

Harry untied the message from the unfortunate owl's leg, read it, then handed it to Ron. He got up and rummaged about in the cupboard for some owl treats, dropping a handful of them into the dish on Hedwig's perch just as she came through the owl slot in the window. Her feathers were ruffled, and she viciously pecked him on the ear and dug her claws into his shoulder before sulkily settling on her perch.

"Sorry, girl," Harry said softly as he stroked her feathers. "Forgot you couldn't get in either. Look, can Pandora sit with you for a bit to recover?" Hedwig glared at Harry for a moment then nipped lightly at his fingers, and Harry knew that he was forgiven. He dropped a quick kiss on his owl's head and whispered, "You're a princess." Turning back to the table, he pointedly ignored the incredulous looks from the twins.

"You Petrified her, so you get to revive her," Ron said loudly. "I don't see why me or Harry should be in the firing line."

Harry shot him a grateful look. He'd almost cast a _Finite_ on the owl, and Fred and George wouldn't have missed that bit of wandless magic. Harry yawned. He was still groggy and he needed to wake up a bit. He couldn't afford to make silly slips in front of this particular audience. A loud squawk and a cry of pain drew Harry's attention back to the plight of Hermione's owl. George was swearing and cradling his hand, and Ron had found some bacon rinds somewhere and was using them to coax Pandora over to Hedwig's perch.

When he finally had her settled, Ron said, "She'll be all right there for a minute." Then he opened a cupboard and took out a quill, some ink, and a small piece of parchment, and sat down again next to Harry. "Tell her we'll be there?"

Harry nodded, and Ron quickly dashed off a note accepting Hermione's dinner invitation for the following evening. He tied it Pandora's leg, and she shot out of the window as though she couldn't get away fast enough. Harry sighed deeply. He couldn't blame her.

"You do know that Hermione is going to give us a lot of grief over the state of her owl," Harry said as he glared at the twins.

"Not our fault she couldn't get in," Fred said. "And you still haven't told us what Perfect Percy wanted."

"It's none of your fucking business," Ron snapped. Harry put a restraining hand on his arm.

"We might as well tell them. They'll find out on Sunday, anyway, and this way they won't start in on him as soon as he shows his face," Harry said. Ron gave a terse nod, and Harry continued, "Percy was a spy. My spy, to be precise. He's been working undercover in the Ministry for years. He came to give me his final report. As of today that role is no longer required of him."

The twins looked at each, seeming to do that silent communication thing that Harry found vaguely unsettling. Then Fred said slowly, "Nobody could find any of you lot yesterday."

"You were missing for hours."

"And while you were missing, Scrimgeour apparently went nuts and had to be carted off to St. Mungo. It was all over the evening edition of the_Prophet_."

"And suddenly Percy's comes in out of the cold."

"Coincidence? I think not. What do you think, George?"

"I totally agree, dear brother."

"I'd keep my thoughts to myself, if I were you," Harry said softly.

The twins shared another swift glance.

"Only joking, mate," George said. "So, have you two have seen the paper?"

"No," Ron said. "We were trying to get some bloody sleep."

"So you don't know about Dad, then?" Fred said, a look of anticipation on his face.

"Percy told us," Harry said.

"Oh. Still, brilliant news, eh? Mum's in a right panic but you can tell she's over the moon about it," George said. "She didn't mention you Flooing him, though, Ron."

"Haven't had time yet, have I," Ron snapped out. "I'll Floo him in a minute, all right?"

George held his hands up defensively. "I wasn't having a go at you. Just saying, that's all." He picked up his tea, then added, "But I'd have thought a quick Floo call wouldn't have been that hard to fit in with all this sleeping. After all, it's not as if -"

Fred elbowed his twin, cutting him off mid-flow, and frowned at him.

"He wouldn't have been home anyway. He'd only just got back when we Floo'd him half an hour ago," Fred said with an air of someone pouring oil on troubled waters.

Harry instantly grew suspicious. If Fred was being conciliatory, there was a reason. Normally, he and George wouldn't hesitate to wind Ron up. He took a gulp of his tea and waited.

"Anyway, now that we're here, what are you two doing tonight?" Fred asked.

"What we're not doing is going out with you two," Ron said firmly.

"Who said anything about going out? We just thought a quiet evening in with our brother and our favourite investor would be just the ticket. And to make up for rudely waking you two up, we'll even go and get take-away for you, to show you how sorry we are."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right. Why are you really here?"

The twins grinned sheepishly, and George said, "Angelina and Katie threw us out of the flat for the night. They've got some sort of girl emergency thing -"

"- one of their friends found her boyfriend in bed with someone else or something -"

"- so they're all going to sit around, eat chocolate and get pissed -"

"- and slag off us blokes. It's not pretty, mate."

"Yeah. And, er, they told us not to come home until tomorrow. So any chance of us crashing here tonight?" George said, a pathetic look on his face.

And there was the reason for Fred's earlier restraint. Harry sighed and looked at Ron, who shrugged in defeat.

"Fine. You can stay," Harry said. "But I want a favour in return. Ron and I need to go to Muggle London tomorrow for the day. You two can open up, 'cause we need to make an early start, right?" Ron shot Harry a questioning glance, and Harry added, "We need to buy some stuff for Hermione."

Ron looked vaguely confused, but nodded agreeably.

The twins shared a look, then Fred said, "Yeah, no problem. We'll get Lee over. He can't wait to take over this place, and he's champing at the bit. You two are still moving out the weekend before Hermione's wedding, right?"

"Yeah. Tell him he can move his stuff in on the Sunday, we'll be out by then," Ron said.

"Excellent! Well, we'll just go and get some grub, and perhaps a bottle or two of something to wash it down with."

-----

Harry prised his eyes open, wincing as pain shot through his head and down his neck. His mouth felt as though he'd swallowed a bottle of glue. He peered myopically at his surroundings, to find that he was lying at one end of an enormous, extremely uncomfortable mattress. And the couch appeared to be missing. Presumably someone had transfigured it into the lumpy purple torture device he'd spent the night passed out on. Fred and George were sprawled half on top of each other at the other end of the mattress, and Ron had spread himself out in the middle. Harry swallowed thickly and groaned. He desperately needed a drink. And a headache draught. And the loo. And not necessarily in that order. He slowly rolled over and then eased himself upright.

He made the loo his first port of call, and then stumbled his way to the kitchen. He put the kettle on, then opened the cold cupboard, pulled out a flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"I fucking hate the twins."

Harry turned around quickly, then grabbed at the table to steady himself. Ron was leaning unsteadily against the doorjamb. He made his way gingerly to the table, and Harry passed him a flask of pumpkin juice, which Ron finished in three gulps.

"What time is it?"

"Eight thirty," Harry croaked out. He cleared his throat. "Dobby!"

The house elf appeared with a loud pop. "Harry Potter! What can Dobby be doing for you?" Harry winced, and Dobby immediately lowered his voice. "Is you wanting some breakfast?"

Harry nodded carefully. "Could you get us four cooked breakfasts, please?"

Dobby gave a sharp nod and vanished. He returned a couple of minutes later with four of the elf-prepared instant meal boxes, and four phials.

"They is potions for headaches. You should not drink so much, Harry Potter and Harry's Wheezy. Is not good for wizards." Dobby shook his head at them and vanished again. Harry caught Ron's eye and they both grinned sheepishly, but gratefully swallowed the potions.

They had just finished eating when the twins stumbled into the kitchen. Harry handed them each a headache potion, pointed them towards tea and breakfast, and then he and Ron got ready for their day in Muggle London.

-----

"So what exactly are we doing, today?" Ron asked as they walked out of the quiet alleyway Harry had Apparated them both to.

"Richard really liked watching that film the other night, didn't he?" Harry said.

Ron snickered. "You're telling me. It nearly killed him having to settle on just one. He told me he'd even consider living in a Muggle area if it meant he could have a telly. He loves going to the pictures, too." Ron shook his head. "I don't mind watching the telly. Bit of a laugh. But he really likes it."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I heard him talking to you about it. And I thought it could be a really good idea for a wedding present. Get them a DVD player and a television. I could put the shielding charms on them that we use at the club. What do you think?"

"That's not a bad idea, you know," Ron said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I had no idea what to get them. Apart from books, of course, and I reckon they've probably got a fair few between them already. Are we going to buy them some films to watch, too?"

"I think so, yeah. You were talking to Richard. Did he tell you the sort of films he likes?"

"He seemed happy to watch anything, really," Ron said. "He seemed pretty keen to see the films you had. Maybe we should just get them the same sort of stuff, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said. He stopped outside a shop doorway. "Let's start in here."

He pushed open the door of the brightly lit shop and prepared to do battle.

Several hours later, footsore and weary, Harry and Ron Apparated into the hallway of their house.

"I really hate shopping," Ron said as he wandered into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Harry checked over the neat stack of items that he'd banished here during their shopping trip and then summoned them a couple of lagers.

"Cheers, mate." Ron took a long swallow. "That was murder! I've never seen so many people crammed into shops in my life. And the noise! Is that what all Muggle shops are like?"

"I think so," Harry said. "Never really given it much thought. Want to eat before we tackle the charms?"

"Bloody good idea. I'm starving," Ron said as he levered himself out of the chair. "Takes it out of you, doesn't it, all this shopping lark."

-----

At 6.30 p.m. on the dot, Ron Apparated into the hallway outside Hermione and Richard's flat with instructions to clear a space in their living room. Exactly five minutes later, Harry and several large boxes appeared in the middle of the living room floor.

"What on earth is that lot?" Hermione said.

"It's your wedding present," Ron said with a grin as he and Harry began unpacking the boxes and Vanishing the unwanted packaging.

Richard's eyes widened as a broad smile lit up his face. "Really? This is for us?" But then the smile dimmed as he added, "But it won't work here."

"Actually, it will. A friend has developed a special shielding that lets electronic equipment work in high magical fields," Harry said. "Let's just get it all set up, and I'll show you. We bought a wall unit to put it in, too. We did our best to match it to the rest of your furniture, but we can transfigure it if you hate it."

"Oy! I picked that unit," Ron said as he reached into the last remaining box and pulled out what looked like a piece of doll's furniture. "They'll love it."

Harry, Ron and Richard shuffled furniture around until they had freed up sufficient space, and then placed the tiny unit against the wall. Harry enlarged it, and Hermione looked at it critically before nodding her approval. It wasn't until they'd put everything into the unit that Hermione suddenly said, "We're idiots. We don't have electricity!"

"I know," Harry said, "and it doesn't matter. Because that's how the shielding works. It converts ambient magical energy into a power source that Muggle electronics can use instead of electricity. This thing here," Harry reached into the cardboard box and pulled out a small black box, "is like a cross between a converter and a battery. The ward I'll be casting in a minute stabilises and regulates it all. You actually treat this box like an electrical socket, Hermione. It's the reason the shielding works so well. It doesn't try to block out magic, which is virtually impossible. It converts it, which works brilliantly."

Harry plugged the TV and DVD player into the box, which sat snugly in a corner behind the DVD player. Then he put a hand on the black box and closed his eyes for a moment as he concentrated on setting the complicated ward.

Ron gasped. Hermione and Richard gave him questioning looks, but Ron just shook his head. "Want to look through the DVDs we got you?" he said as he reached into the box. He pulled out a handful of discs and passed them to Richard. "We weren't sure what you'd want, so we got a bit of a mixture. Hermione can take you to Muggle London and show you where to buy more."

Harry caught Ron's eye, and Ron mouthed 'later', so Harry just nodded. But he knew they had to talk about Ron's apparent sensitivity to Harry's magic. It seemed to be becoming more marked, and it worried him.

"Will we be able to receive television programs? We don't have an aerial, or a satellite dish or anything, obviously," Hermione asked Harry, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Er, yeah, just give me a sec." Harry waved his hand, then said, "There, that should do it. I'm not too certain how it works, actually, but it does. It sort of configures the stabilising ward in a particular way that Tris, the friend I told you about, worked out. Acts like a satellite dish, apparently. You'll be able to fiddle around with it yourself, see what channels you can get; you know how these things work. Oh, and keep the remote controls next to the little black box when you're not using them. It'll keep the batteries charged up. Otherwise you'll go through batteries like nobody's business. Magic flattens them almost instantly."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then excused herself and headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later she poked her head through the doorway.

"Dinner's ready. Put the toys down for a while, boys."

They lingered over coffee and port at the dinner table, the conversation easy and relaxing. When Richard suggested for the third time that they could take their coffee into the living room, Hermione finally gave in. Richard and Ron quickly headed back to the new toys, and Hermione shook her head.

"You shouldn't have spent that much money, Harry," she said. "And I know that it's obvious Richard loves your present, but I want to thank you for it, too. It was a very nice thing to do for him, even if it means I'll have to hide the remote control if I actually want to have a decent conversation with him ever again."

"He'll settle down once the novelty wears off," Harry said with a grin. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold key. "But that wasn't really your wedding present. It was something that I knew Richard wanted. This is your wedding present," he said as pressed the vault key into Hermione's hand.

"Harry, no, I can't -"

"Hermione. Listen to me. I have more money than I could ever spend, and face it, I'm not going to have children to leave it to, now am I?"

"You don't know that, you could -"

"No. Unless I somehow manage to knock Ron up, it's not going to happen, believe me. Look, your vault is hardly making a dent. I've set up a vault for Remus, too. Ron's got access to everything, obviously, and he'll get the lot if anything happens to me, so don't think I've left him out. Please, Hermione. It's important to me that you take this. Treat it as a nest egg for a rainy day. Buy a house with it once you have kids. Or you can use it to pay for a divorce if Richard turns into an arsehole."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she swatted at his arm, and Harry shuffled his chair closer and wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't have any family left. You, Ron and Remus are it. You're my sister, Hermione, and I love you. I want to take care of you, but that's Richard's job now, and this is really the only thing I can do. Please let me do this." Hermione buried her face against his chest and he heard a muffled sob. "Oh, shit. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Hermione sniffled loudly, then pulled away and wiped her eyes quickly with her napkin.

"I'm not crying. I'm just a little tired and emotional, that's all. A bride is allowed some leeway this close to her wedding." She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's lips. "Thank you," she said softly. Then she took a deep breath and visibly pulled herself together. "Speaking of weddings, Richard is having his stag night on the Saturday before the wedding. It gives him a week to recover." Hermione shot Harry a wry grin. "Now, Ginny insisted that I should do something, too, but I never really made any close female friends apart from her."

Harry took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "You were too busy keeping us in line and fighting a war. I know. She's got enough friends to fill a Quidditch stadium, though. I'm sure she'd happily arrange something." He looked at the expression on Hermione's face and added, "But I'm assuming you'd rather not go out with a crowd of girls you don't know very well?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'd like just you and me and Ron and Ginny to do something. What do you think?"

Harry smiled and said, "Sounds brilliant. Tell you what, I'm going to the Burrow for lunch tomorrow. Ginny's usually there. We'll put our heads together and come up with something nice to do for the evening, how's that?"

Hermione gave him a relieved smile. "Yes, that sounds fine. Just - try and tone Ginny down a little, will you? She was talking about male strippers, and I really don't think you and Ron want something like that." She glanced at Harry, who raised an eyebrow and gave her an amused grin. She snorted and burst into giggles. "Oh God, I forgot!"

Harry shook his head slowly as he grinned at her. "Don't worry about it. I'll make sure she knows we want something a little classy for the evening."

The sound of loud explosions, screams and sirens, accompanied by a panicked cry of, "Shit, turn it down, turn it down," blared suddenly from the living room. Hermione gave Harry a long-suffering look as she pushed herself to her feet, and Harry followed her into the living room to see what was going on.

"Hit the wrong button," Ron said sheepishly as he fiddled with the remote control. "It's all sorted out now, though." He handed the remote to Richard. "Just showing him how to work the disc player."

Hermione sighed as she eyed the screen with obvious resignation. Harry gestured towards a separate pile of DVDs, and Ron picked them up and said, "We bought some films that Harry said he thought you might like, too. Some of them aren't in English, though, and you have to read what everyone's saying, which seems a bit odd, but he reckoned you wouldn't mind that."

Hermione took the proffered discs and began shuffling through them. "Thank you, that was very thoughtful," she said.

"You like them?" At Hermione's emphatic nod, Ron continued, "Well, I suppose it makes sense. You've got this weird fetish for reading, haven't - ow! That hurt!" Ron said, rubbing his arm.

"Don't be such a baby. It was only a little tap," Hermione said as she put the DVDs back on the shelf. Then she plucked the remote control from Richard's hand and switched off the television. Richard eyed the blank screen sadly as Hermione asked him to get everyone a drink. "I think I'm going to have to hide this thing," she said, glaring at the remote.

Harry shook his head as Ron started bickering with Hermione, asking how she'd feel if Richard hid her books. He settled back in his chair and watched his friends fondly. He was a lucky man, and he knew it.

-----

"Do you want a nightcap? Tea? Coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'll have enough trouble falling asleep after drinking Hermione's coffee as it is. Why the hell she has to make it that strong I'll never know. I'm surprised the spoon doesn't bend when you try to stir it," Ron said as he slowly made his way upstairs.

"Fair enough. I'll be up in a minute," he heard Harry say as he pushed open the bedroom door. A flick of his wand lit several candles, and then Ron huffed softly and slipped his wand away. He kept forgetting that the switch on the wall was used instead of a _Lumos_ in Muggle houses. He stepped into the ensuite and made a point of flipping the light switch on.

Ron was brushing his teeth when he heard the bedroom door close, and Harry call his name. He rinsed his mouth quickly, dried his face and hands and walked out into the bedroom. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning as he stared off into the distance. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. Either that or he had heartburn, which wouldn't have surprised Ron one bit. Richard had to have a cast iron stomach, in Ron's opinion. He'd drunk two cups of Hermione's coffee without turning a hair.

"Everything all right?" Ron asked as he began to get undressed.

Harry waved a hand, and every candle in the room flared to life. "Did you feel anything?" he asked.

Ron shook his head. Harry pursed his lips as he gave Ron a searching look, then he closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. Ron felt a shiver run down his spine. Harry's eyes snapped open immediately.

"You felt that, didn't you?"

"Yeah. What did you do?"

"I cast a ward. You seem to be able to feel when I use more than a tiny amount of magic. When Percy was accusing me of manipulating you yesterday, I felt my magic flare out of control for a second, and you felt it instantly. You even recognised what was happening, because you told me to rein it in, remember?"

"Yeah. It felt..." Ron furrowed his brow as he tried to recall the exact sensation. "It'll sound weird, but it felt sort of buzzy. Wrong, somehow. Like fingernails on a blackboard, you know? Set my teeth on edge."

Harry's face fell. "Does it always feel like that?"

"No," Ron assured him quickly. "Not at all. When you're casting a ward or something; when you're in control, I suppose, it feels nice. I get a sort of shiver down my spine. It's all tingly and -" Ron stopped abruptly. It actually felt like Harry was stroking him, or sometimes cuddling him, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. Feeling vaguely embarrassed, he said, "It feels, I don't know, sort of nice."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Well, that's good then. Um, can you remember when you started being able to feel me?"

Ron snorted and shot Harry a wide grin, and Harry rolled his eyes and said, "My magic. When you could feel my magic, you perv."

"It's only since we've been together," Ron said slowly. "At least I think so. Do you remember when you keyed me into your wards? I think that might have been when it started." Ron ransacked his memory, but the tingling sensation and innate knowing hadn't happened before then, not that he could recall. "It reminds me a bit of how you know a storm's coming, especially in the summer. You feel the pressure build, and you can almost taste the lightning in the air. It's like that. I can feel you sort of gather your magic, and when you cast, I get all tingly. The more power you use, the stronger the sensation."

Harry was staring at him, and Ron felt suddenly exposed under the searching gaze. He quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and dived under the covers.

"You're like a barometer," Harry said suddenly.

"A what?"

"Barometer. Muggles use them to measure air pressure. They can tell if a storm is coming by whether the pressure rises or falls. Some people can feel it, too, and it sounds very much like what you've described." Harry exhaled softly through pursed lips. "I don't know how this happened, Ron. I'm sorry that -"

Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him down into a hug. "Shut up. I like that I can feel your magic. Gives me an early warning system if nothing else." He smiled as Harry laughed softly. "Come to bed, mate. No point worrying about it now. It's not hurting me, and if it doesn't bother me, it certainly shouldn't bother you." He felt Harry nod against his chest before pulling away and hurriedly undressing. As Harry climbed into bed, Ron shuffled across and gathered him into his arms.

"Ron? If it starts to feel different, or something changes, tell me, right?"

"Of course," Ron said, and then decided to end the conversation by giving Harry something else to do with his mouth.

-----


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

-----

The Burrow was a study in organised chaos when Harry and Ron arrived promptly at eleven o'clock, as per the instructions they had received by owl earlier that morning from Percy, who said he would meet them there. The moment they Apparated into the garden they were held at wandpoint by an overenthusiastic Auror, who received a tongue-lashing from Molly before she pulled them both into a crushing hug.

"Arthur's being interviewed, and Percy said to bring you both over as soon as you got here," Molly said once she'd released them.

Ron shot Harry a wary glance, but Harry just smiled and said, "Better get over there, then." Percy obviously wasn't wasting any time in mobilising support behind Arthur's candidacy, and was making the most of Harry's visit to the Burrow. Harry didn't blame him for a second.

Arthur Weasley was looking uncomfortable, posing in formal robes as he addressed the small group of reporters. A couple of photographers were busily taking pictures of him as Percy supervised the proceedings. A look of relief crossed Arthur's face as he saw them approaching and he stepped away from the group to greet them. He pulled Ron into a hug, and when Harry put out his hand, Arthur pushed it aside and pulled Harry into a hug as well while the photographers busily captured each moment. For once, Harry didn't mind knowing that his photograph would be on the front page of the newspapers the next day.

"Congratulations, Dad."

"Yeah, congratulations, Arthur."

Arthur smiled ruefully. "I don't know if congratulations are entirely appropriate. I feel rather as though I've been thrown into the deep end." He glanced over at Percy, who was expertly handling the reporters, and said, "I don't think I'd be coping at all if it weren't for your brother, Ron. The way he deals with everything is rather amazing. I'm so proud of him."

"He's done a lot that he should be proud of," Harry said.

"I know," Arthur said. He gave Harry a rather pointed look and Harry smiled. Percy had obviously already spoken to his father. That made things easier. Or at the very least, less emotionally fraught.

"Ron, Harry, good to see you both."

Percy gave Ron a brotherly pat on the back, then shook Harry's hand.

"Good to see you, too, Percy," Harry said with a smile. Percy raised an eyebrow and shot a quick glance towards the small huddle of reporters who were shuffling nearer. Harry gave a tiny nod. This was an ideal opportunity for a little impromptu election campaigning. Not that Harry thought Arthur needed it. But every little helped.

"I have every confidence in you, Arthur," Harry said, raising his voice slightly. "The Ministry needs someone like you at the helm. The war is over, and it's time to put its horrors behind us. We've allowed its shadow to taint our lives for far too long. We need someone with the vision and strength of character to heal the rifts in our society; to address the inequities and finally lay to rest the ghosts of the past. We need someone who will embrace the diversity within our society and see it for the strength it gives us. It's time for us to once again reach out to the wizarding communities of the world, and to retake our rightful place among them as a respected and valued member. It's time to look to the future. And the future of our world couldn't be in better hands."

Harry blinked in surprise at the smattering of applause and cries of, "hear, hear". He'd forgotten where he was for a moment. One or two of the reporters had almost worshipful looks on their faces as they clutched their notebooks, dictation quills frantically scribbling, and one of the photographers had pulled Percy aside and was whispering urgently into his ear.

"Just one or two more," he said to the photographers. "Minister Weasley's time is valuable and this is, after all, just a quiet family get-together."

Harry bit back a grin at Percy's subtle underlining of the fact that the Chosen One was considered a member of the interim Minister for Magic's family, and allowed himself to be directed into place for the photographs.

The photographers ended up taking at least a dozen shots of Harry and Arthur shaking hands before Percy declared the interview over and shepherded the press off the premises. Arthur gave a sigh of relief as he watched them go, then immediately loosened the stiff collar on the formal robes he was wearing. The twins gave Harry a thumbs up and Ginny winked as they steered a blubbering Molly back into the house, and Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Percy bustled up to them, smiling widely. He slapped Harry on the back.

"Well said! I've got to hand it to you, Harry, I couldn't have written a better speech myself. It'll be all over the front page tomorrow. The Wizengamot decision is a foregone conclusion. You must have put a lot of work into it."

Harry shook his head. "Totally off the cuff, Percy. I just said what I believed."

"I'm - I'm touched, Harry," Arthur said sincerely. "But I'm really not sure that I'm the right person for the job. There's so much that needs putting right, and so many others who are better qualified. What happens if I'm not good enough?"

"We believe in you, Arthur. And we're all behind you. You're willing to ask for help, and you'll get it. You won't make the mistake of thinking you know better than everyone else. You're not in it for the power, or the glory. You'll probably be the best Minister for Magic we've ever had," Harry said.

"Of course he will," Ron said. "He's my dad."

Arthur chuckled and slung an arm around Ron's shoulders, and Harry and Percy followed them into the Burrow.

-----

"Sit down everyone," Molly called out loudly above the lively chatter that filled the kitchen. Then, with a few brisk swishes of her wand, lunch was served.

The Aurors who were assigned as Arthur's bodyguards, now that he was Minister, politely refused to join them for lunch as they were on duty, but Molly insisted on bringing them out a plate of food and a Butterbeer each. Harry privately thought that they would be queuing up for bodyguard duty at the Burrow once word got out about how good Molly's cooking was.

They all sat down, and Harry found himself sandwiched between Ginny and Ron. Ginny quickly piled food on her plate as she said, "I've got to leave for work in less than an hour. Honestly, we're so busy at the moment."

"Actually, Ginny, that reminds me. Hermione spoke to me about her hen's night, and -"

"Oh, no! I forgot all about it!"

Ginny looked stricken, and Harry quickly continued, "No, that's fine. Hermione knows how busy you are."

Ron shot Harry a questioning look and Harry frowned at him in warning before saying, "Yeah, so she asked me to arrange something quiet. Just the four of us. She said she'd really like that."

"Oh, thank goodness," Ginny said, a relieved smile on her face. "It's been difficult enough finding time for robe fittings and stuff. Thanks, Harry. You'll let me know when and where? I've already had a word with several of my friends at work, so if I'm rostered on duty, I'll be able to swap with someone. If you can let me know as soon as possible, that'd be great."

"No problem."

Harry filled his plate as Molly fussed about, urging everyone to eat up. She picked up several sausage rolls and placed them on Ginny's plate, saying, "You'll need the energy, dear."

"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said with a smile, and as soon as Molly's back was turned she returned them to the serving plate. "Honestly, I'd be the size of a house if I ate enough to keep Mum happy," she murmured to Harry. "How much energy does she think I need? I'm not digging ditches all day."

Ginny picked up her pumpkin juice, and as she did so her gaze slid past Harry. He turned his head to see Ron reaching for the sandwich platter and heard Ginny mutter, "That reminds me."

Ginny leant forward and said, "So, Ron. I haven't seen you in ages. How did things go with your girlfriend?"

"What girlfriend?" Ron asked absently as reached for a plate of sausage rolls.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly. Men! The one you came to me asking for advice about, remember? It sounded serious, so I just wondered how it went."

"Ron sounded serious about a girl? There's a first. Regular Casanova he is. Talk about love 'em and leave 'em. Though I haven't heard -"

"Mind your own business, Fred," Ginny snapped, glaring across the table at her brother. "I wasn't talking to you. You and George need to sort your own love lives out before you start in on anybody else's." She turned her attention back to Ron and continued, "So, did you get things sorted out with her?"

"Are you seeing someone, Ron?" Molly was beaming. "Oh, I'm so pleased. I was rather worried after Hermione. You didn't seem to be able to settle on anybody and I don't mind telling you -"

"Molly," Arthur interrupted gently as he put a hand on his wife's arm, "don't badger the boy. I'm sure he'll tell you all about her in his own time."

"So, who is she? We wondered why we hadn't seen you around much," George said with a grin. "Been keeping you busy, has she?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked rather like a deer caught in wandlight. Everyone was looking at him, and Harry was desperately racking his brains in an attempt to come up with something to distract them. The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat caught his attention, and he looked across the table to see Percy rising to his feet.

"Actually, while we're on that subject," Percy said, "I have an announcement. Last night, I asked Penny to do me the honour of becoming my wife, and she said yes."

"Oh, Percy, how wonderful," Molly gushed. "You should have brought her with you today."

"It's Dad's day today," Percy said. "I wouldn't even have mentioned it, but -"

"Nonsense," Arthur interrupted firmly. "Family comes first, Percy. The Ministry's just work. This is what's really important."

Molly pulled Percy into a suffocating hug, and Percy was congratulated with much hand shaking and backslapping. Arthur rummaged about in a cupboard and pulled out a rather dusty bottle of champagne, and when Molly found out that Penny was actually at home alone, she insisted that Percy Floo call her and invite her to join them for lunch. Percy gave Harry a significant look as Harry added his congratulations to those of Percy's family, and Harry knew that he owed Percy a favour for taking the spotlight off Ron.

Penny arrived just as Ginny was leaving for work, and in the ensuing coming and going Harry found himself sitting alone at the end of the table, silently watching as the Weasley family greeted their newest member. George was teasing Percy good-naturedly while Ron, who had obviously regrouped, was telling Fred the most outrageous stories about his imaginary girlfriend. They were laughing and chatting together, with Penny and Percy firmly at the centre. Molly and Arthur were clearly delighted, beaming proudly at the couple and talking about wedding plans and grandchildren. And as he silently watched, Harry grew more and more uncomfortable. He felt as though he shouldn't be there. He didn't belong. Not really. He'd never be accepted into the family the way Penny so obviously was.

Scrimgeour's accusing words had been easy enough to dismiss as the ravings of a lunatic at the time. But there was more than a grain of truth in them. Molly and Arthur would be horrified if they knew of his relationship with their son. Would they see it as a betrayal of their trust? Probably. And despite Ron's emphatic dismissal of Percy's fears, there was a little, niggling doubt in the back of Harry's mind. Could he, somehow, have influenced Ron in some way? He couldn't totally dismiss the idea. He had unconsciously used magic many times. And he'd wanted Ron so very much. He had the sudden urge to flee, and forced himself to calmly approach Arthur, offer his congratulations once more, and then make his excuses, explaining that he'd promised to visit Remus that afternoon. Smiling weakly in the face of Ron's obvious concern, he fled.

-----

"Harry! Come in. You should have let us know you were coming over. Dora's gone to visit her mother and she won't be back until tomorrow. She'll be sorry to have missed you."

Harry was ushered into the kitchen, and Remus bustled around assembling afternoon tea as Harry took a seat at the table. He gazed around the room, feeling the pang of nostalgia that always assailed him here. Too many Order meetings to count had taken place around this table. Bitter tears had been shed in that kitchen, but there had been victories, too.

The kitchen was the only room in the house that had remained virtually unchanged from those times, however. The rest of the old house was unrecognisable, having been fully renovated. It was now bright and airy, and the vile portrait of Mrs. Black was long gone. Harry had initially been surprised at Remus's eagerness to live there, when he himself had found it an all too painful reminder of Sirius. But now he found it rather comforting, and visiting the house always made him feel closer to his godfather, somehow. Remus had smiled gently when Harry had finally confessed this, and confided that he had always felt that way, and that was the reason he had wanted to stay there.

"Have a slice of cake," Remus said as he placed a cup of tea in front of Harry. "I tried out a new recipe, and it turned out rather well, if I do say so myself."

"Great," Harry said with a grin as he helped himself to a large slice of the delicious looking chocolate cake. Remus was rather a good cook, and his cakes were usually excellent. Which was probably just as well, as Tonks could burn water.

"So, not long now until you're off on your travels."

"Four weeks, and I'm counting the days. I'm looking forward it, Remus. I really need to get away for a while."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. Then he fixed Harry with a rather intense stare, and after a few moments said, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Harry frowned. "I don't think so, but there's something I want to give you," he said as he pulled a Gringotts key out of his pocket and handed it to Remus.

"Harry?"

"I sorted out all the vaults and stuff, liquidated some assets and rationalised a few things. This is the key to the main Black family vault. All the dark artefacts and things are gone," he added hastily. "There's just some heirloom stuff, and some books and things that Narcissa didn't want. Oh, and the money, of course."

"I can't accept this," Remus said firmly. "You've already done far too much. You've given me the house, paid for it to be fixed up; you even share your house-elves with us. Not to mention -"

"Sirius wanted you to have the house, and Dobby and Winky get bored," Harry interrupted quickly. "They decide what they do and don't do. They've even taken themselves off to the Burrow a couple of times, but Molly prefers to do things herself. Look, Tonks was related to Sirius; she has as much right to the Black vaults as Narcissa does, and you were his best friend. He'd have wanted you two to have this stuff. Tonks and her mum are the only family Sirius would care to admit to. I have all the mementos of him that I need. I don't need or want this stuff. And Sirius once told me that he wanted to make sure you were okay. He knew how hard things were for you, what with your furry little problem."

Remus laughed softly at the familiar phrase. "I still miss them. You'd think that, after all these years, I'd be used to it. But they saved my sanity at school; they were the best friends a man could have asked for. I swear I can still feel Sirius here sometimes, late at night when I'm on my own. And looking at you, Harry," Remus smiled sadly, "is like looking at James. He'd have been about your age when -" He broke off abruptly and sighed deeply. "I didn't expect to survive the war, you know. I thought I'd be with them all by now."

Harry placed a hand on Remus's arm and gave a little squeeze. His mum and dad were long gone, and the pain dulled with time. But Sirius - he'd had such a raw deal, and his loss was still painful for both of them, especially around this time of year. It was seven years ago this month that they'd lost him.

"Sirius would hate to hear you talking like that. Take the damn vault key, Remus. He'll be laughing his arse off with Mum and Dad, knowing that the Black family assets are going to you. That old bitch of a mother of his will be spinning in her grave. Give him that satisfaction, if nothing else!"

Remus snorted. "You even sound like James! Thank you, Harry. I can't say that the money isn't welcome. Dora works far too hard." He raised a quelling hand as Harry began to protest. "The Lily Pad vault is for others in far worse straits than myself. I don't feel right using it. I do pay myself a salary, of course."

"Obviously not enough," Harry said with a frown. "People rely on you, Remus. You need to take care of yourself so you can help them."

Remus nodded. "And I will, I promise. Now, what's this I've been reading in the _Prophet_ about Arthur taking over the Ministry?"

Harry laughed and filled Remus in on the events of the past few days. By the time he'd finished his tale his tea had grown cold, and Remus insisted on making them a fresh pot.

When he finally sat down again, he said, "Well, Arthur will definitely have his work cut out for him, but at least he'll be heading in the right direction."

"My thoughts exactly."

Remus nodded. "So, how is Ron?"

"Fine. He's fine. It didn't really seem to bother him that much. I was the one who ended up having nightmares over it." Seeing the look of concern that settled on Remus's face, Harry added, "I'm fine now, honestly. Even gave a speech this morning."

"You gave a speech? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Harry laughed. "It was for a good cause. We went to the Burrow for lunch, and Percy had arranged a bit of a press conference. Bolstering Arthur's chances of getting chosen by the Wizengamot by rallying public opinion behind him, all that sort of thing." Remus nodded and Harry continued, "Anyway, Percy sort of set me up a bit, but I didn't mind. Gave an impromptu speech and a bit of a photo opportunity with Arthur. You'll probably see it on the front page of the papers tomorrow morning."

"I shall look forward to it," Remus said with a grin. He took a sip of his tea and then said, "Molly and Arthur must be pleased to have Percy back with them again."

"Definitely. You know what Molly's like. She was all worked up about Arthur being made Acting Minister as it was, and then with Percy coming home and announcing that he's getting married -"

"He is?" Remus interrupted.

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you. Yeah, he's asked Penny to marry him. Penelope Clearwater. They met at school," Harry clarified. At Remus's nod, he continued, "Anyway, Molly insisted that he invite her over to lunch, and Arthur broke out the champagne and they were all celebrating and I just felt..." Harry shrugged. He wrapped his hands around his cup and stared into it. He'd felt like an outsider and had suddenly, desperately, wanted to go home. But he wasn't thinking of the house. Home was people, and the closest he had were Ron and Remus. But Ron had already been at home, with his family. And it hadn't included Harry. Not really. He sighed and said softly, "I just felt like coming to see you."

"You're always welcome here, Harry. And I do understand."

Harry looked up to see Remus watching him with such compassion in his eyes that he found himself blinking against a sudden prickling behind his eyes.

"Thanks, Remus," he said as he picked up his cup and sipped at the tea, using the time to pull himself together again.

"It can be a bit overwhelming at times. For those of us who aren't used to big families, I mean," Remus said gently.

Harry just nodded, and after a moment Remus said, "So, I understand that Ron is going on holiday with you."

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it. We're going to visit Bill first, and then we're staying with Charlie on the Dragon Reserve. I actually wouldn't have minded going to Romania first. I've got this urge to go there, for some reason. But Ron wanted to go to Egypt to see Bill first. I think he wants to show me around a bit, 'cause he's been to Egypt before. And Bill's already booked some holidays, so Romania will have to wait. Not that there's any rush, not really. I mean, we'll get there eventually, won't we?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut and grinned weakly, aware that he was babbling but not really knowing why. Not until he finally noticed what his subconscious had obviously been trying to tell him. Remus was staring at him with a knowing smile on his face. Harry felt his face heat up, and Remus's smile turned into a smirk.

"So, you and Ron, eh?" Remus said as he tapped the side of his nose.

"Bloody werewolves and their sense of smell," Harry muttered.

"As long as you're happy, Harry, that's all that matters to me. You've wanted more than friendship with him for quite a while. I'm happy for you."

"I always wondered if you knew."

"At first, I thought it was possibly Hermione that you were interested in, even though my instincts were telling me otherwise. It wasn't until she moved out that I knew for certain. But as far as I know, nobody else has a clue. The wizarding world runs on rumour, but so far your secret seems to be safe."

"Oh. Well, that's good to know, I suppose." Having dealt with Scrimgeour and Skeeter, Harry was fairly certain that his secret would remain just that - secret, but it was nice to have it confirmed. He took a deep breath. "Do you know if... I mean, would Mum and Dad have been..." Harry's voice trailed off and he sighed. He'd tried not to think about how his parents would have greeted the news of his relationship with Ron. Or how Sirius would have taken it, for that matter. Remus was the only person he could ask, and the only one likely to know. Harry swallowed hard. Remus shuffled his chair closer and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"James and Lily loved you, cub. You were the light of their life. James had a very traditional upbringing, but Lily had a lot of influence on him and his ideas and she certainly wouldn't have put up with any nonsense from him over this. But James wasn't like that anyway. He strongly believed that people should be free to live their lives without condemnation. Look at how he reacted to me. Given his upbringing, James, and Sirius for that matter, should have shunned me. But they accepted me, and became the best friends I ever had. I'm not saying your dad wouldn't have been upset at first, but he'd have got over it. It certainly wouldn't have worried your mum, and as long as you were happy, she'd have been happy for you, though she'd have been a little sad about not having any grandchildren from you. Sirius, though - he wouldn't have understood it at all. He went after anything in a skirt and quite frankly had the morals of an alley cat. Being male and not wanting to bed any eligible female within range would have confused him. But he wouldn't have hated you. He loved you too much for that. Probably would have hauled you off to every brothel he could find to try to convince you to change your mind, though."

"Yeah, that sounds like him," Harry said with a chuckle. "Thanks, Remus." He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realised that he'd carried that worry at the back of his mind the whole time until it was gone.

"You're welcome," Remus said with a smile. He gave Harry a quick squeeze and then stood up. "Are you going to stay for dinner? It won't be anything fancy, but with Dora away it'll give me an excuse to cook. Otherwise I probably would have just made do with a sandwich or something."

"Yeah, okay, that'd be nice. Thanks," Harry said. Ron would probably have dinner at the Burrow, and Harry really didn't fancy the idea of going back to the flat and eating alone.

"Excellent! You can give me a hand getting it ready, then," Remus said with a grin. "If you want to start peeling the potatoes, I can get the meat on."

Harry stood up, and some impulse made his wrap his arms around Remus and give him a hug.

"Thank you, Remus. You're the closest thing to a parent I have left, really, and - thank you."

"Oh, cub." Remus wrapped his arms around Harry and dropped a kiss on his head. "It means a lot to me to hear that. You'll always have a home here, you and Ron, no matter what."

Harry nodded, but stayed in Remus's arms a moment longer, enjoying the comforting feeling. Then with a final squeeze he stepped back slightly.

Remus smiled. "Let's get on then," he said, "because this food won't cook itself."

Harry grabbed a bag of potatoes and a knife, and began to peel. "Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Does Tonks know about me and Ron?"

"I haven't mentioned it to her. But I don't think she'd react badly. Her dad's Muggle-born, after all, and she knows what it's like to be different, herself."

"Right."

"You two could come to dinner one evening, if you have time before you leave. Sound her out about it. If you want to, of course."

Harry considered this for a moment. He'd have to talk it over with Ron, but it would be nice to know that they had at least some family that accepted them; apart from Percy, of course.

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea. I'll check with Ron and then let you know when we can make it."

Remus smiled at Harry. "We'll look forward to it."

-----

Ron was worried about Harry. He really hoped he hadn't left because he felt like he was intruding or anything. He'd been unhappy for some reason, Ron was sure of it. He'd wanted to go after him, but Percy had collared him and drawn him into a conversation with his father, and the next thing he knew it was almost dinnertime and everyone was drafted to help in the kitchen. All of which meant that it was going on half past nine by the time he finally got back to the flat.

Ron made himself a cup of tea, but couldn't settle. He couldn't shake the feeling that Harry was upset. Finally, he decided to Floo Remus and just make sure that everything was okay. He knew he was overreacting a bit. Harry was probably fine, and Ron expected to find him having a quiet night in with Remus. So it was a bit of a surprise when Remus greeted Ron rather exuberantly and insisted that he come and join the party.

Ron stepped out of the Floo to find Harry and Remus in the living room, surrounded by photographs. They had what Ron recognised as an old record player set up on a small table, and Muggle music was blaring from it.

"Ron, come and have a drink, mate," Harry said, waving a glass of Firewhisky about with an abandon that had Ron certain he was about to drop it.

Ron made his way through the minefield of photographs to sit on the couch next to Harry. Remus gave him a glass of Firewhisky and raised his own, saying, "To Sirius."

Ron and Harry clinked their glasses together in a toast, and Harry drained his glass with a speed that Ron found alarming. And then the penny dropped. It was June. Seeing Remus and Harry drinking together, photos of the Marauders scattered about, jogged his memory. It was their annual wake for Sirius. He suddenly felt like he was the one intruding where he didn't belong.

"I should go," Ron said as he caught Remus's eye, but Remus merely smiled widely at him and shook his head.

"No. Stay. You're family now, and you knew him too. It's sort of impromptu this year, or Dora'd be here as well."

The music had stopped, and there was an odd crackling and clicking noise. Remus was sorting through large cardboard squares with colourful pictures on them and Harry was shuffling through photographs. He pulled one out and showed it to Ron. It was a picture of Sirius in jeans and a leather jacket, leaning nonchalantly against a large, black motorbike. He looked so young and carefree, and Ron felt a sudden pang at his loss.

"This is one of my favourites," Harry said, and Remus leant across to look at it. He chuckled and shook his head fondly.

"He thought he was so cool. Lily called him 'the rebel without a clue'. Of course, neither he nor James had any idea what she was talking about."

Harry snorted loudly, and Ron figured it was yet another Muggle reference he would have to ask about.

"I dunno," Harry said as he stared at the photo. "I think he looks bloody hot, actually."

Photo-Sirius raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"He wouldn't have argued with you," Remus said. "Although he may have found the fact that you were the one saying it somewhat disturbing."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, lots of brothels," Harry said as he reached for the whisky bottle again. "What are you going to put on now?"

"Well, after seeing that photo again, there's really only one choice," Remus said as he plucked one of the cardboard squares out of the pile. It was black, with odd silvery letters on the front that Ron couldn't quite make out. Remus pulled a large black disk out of it and put it on the record player. A heavy guitar riff began playing.

"Oh, yes!" Harry said as he and Remus began nodding along in a very exaggerated way, singing along loudly, and somewhat tunelessly, to the song. Ron had trouble making out the words. The singer seemed to be shouting rather than actually singing, something about black being back. When the song finished there was another round of toasting Sirius, and Remus turned the volume down a little so they could talk without screaming at each other over the music. Ron leant back against the couch and just listened as Remus reminisced about Harry's parents and godfather.

He had been very surprised to hear Harry and Remus joking about the fact that Harry liked blokes that way. But as he considered it, Ron realised that it shouldn't have surprised him. Not really. Remus was Harry's last link to his family: his mum and dad, and his godfather. It made sense that he'd tell him. Or maybe Remus had worked it out for himself, in which case... The realisation that Remus probably knew about him, too, made Ron squirm.

Harry seemed to be working his way through the bottle of Firewhisky rather rapidly, and Ron decided that taking himself off to the kitchen for a while might be a really good idea. Harry could definitely do with some strong coffee, and Ron could have a bit of breathing space to regroup. He slipped out of the living room and made his way down to the kitchen. He wasn't sure where anything was kept, but after rummaging around in a few cupboards he managed to find a jar of instant coffee and a bag of sugar. He made three large mugs of coffee, eyed the jar thoughtfully for a moment, decided to err on the safe side, and dumped another teaspoonful of coffee powder into each cup.

He picked up one of the mugs and took a sip, then grimaced. He dumped another spoonful of sugar into each one, then hunted about for a tray. He'd had a couple of drinks himself, and didn't fancy his chances of juggling three cups without dropping one or spilling coffee everywhere. He'd just found one when the kitchen door opened and Remus walked in.

"Harry's fallen asleep, so I've left him on the couch," Remus said. "We might as well have our coffee in here so we don't disturb him." He nodded his thanks as Ron handed him a mug. "So, how is Arthur coping with everything?"

"He seems okay," Ron said. "It'll take some getting used to, though. For all of us."

"I'm sure he'll do fine, once he's found his feet."

Ron nodded absently as he considered his options. He'd always liked Remus. You could talk to him about anything and he always seemed to understand. Ron decided that he didn't mind Remus knowing about them, so he took the bull by the horns and said, "Harry told you, then. About me and him."

Remus looked a little taken aback, but smiled and said, "Eventually. I had to prod him a little."

Ron's eyes widened in dismay. "You already knew?"

"I haven't said anything to anyone else," Remus reassured Ron quickly. "And I'm sure no one else has any idea."

"Oh." Ron gave a sigh of relief. A slight, niggling doubt remained, however, and after a moment he asked, "So how did you know?"

Remus took a sip of his coffee, and instantly looked like he wanted to spit it straight back out again.

"It's horrible, isn't it," Ron said with a sigh. "I thought I should make it strong for Harry, but it didn't work out very well."

"I'll make us a fresh cup," Remus said. He picked up their mugs and dumped the contents down the sink. "I've known that Harry wanted more than simple friendship with you for quite some time," he continued as he set about making some fresh coffee.

"Yeah, he told me. A couple of years, he said."

"Did he? It's possible he didn't realise until then, I suppose. But I think he's cared for you for a lot longer than that. After all, you were chosen as his hostage in the second task way back in your fourth year at Hogwarts, if I recall correctly."

Ron shivered as he remembered the Triwizard Tournament, and how it had been nothing but an elaborate trap for Harry. He had almost died, and Voldemort had finally regained a body by using Harry's blood. He had been awful to Harry that year, all because of stupid jealousy. But he had still been picked as the thing Harry would miss the most.

"But that was just because I was his best friend," Ron protested.

"I think you'll find that the rescuers had a strong emotional attachment to their chosen hostage, Ron," Remus pointed out gently.

Ron pushed the thought away. It was unsettling to think that Harry had thought about him that way while they were still at school. He watched Remus finish making their drinks, and nodded his thanks as a fresh cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

"I didn't know for certain, though, until I smelt your scent all over him."

Ron's mouth dropped open and he felt his face heat up. Remus huffed softly and grinned at him. "You can't hide things like that from a werewolf. Something you two might want to remember when you visit Bill and Fleur. Bill doesn't transform, but his senses will be heightened around the full moon."

Ron snapped his mouth shut, then nodded thoughtfully. He'd definitely have to mention that to Harry. He picked up his coffee and took a sip.

"I need to explain something, Ron," Remus said as he settled back in his chair. "The Marauders weren't just a group of school friends who got together to play a few pranks. We were family. Brothers. Pack. That's why Peter's betrayal cut so deeply. He didn't just betray his friends. He betrayed the pack. James was the only one of us to have a child, but Harry belonged to all of us. He was Little Prongslet, Padfoot's pup, and my cub. So you'll have to forgive me for interfering where you might think I shouldn't. I love my cub, as I loved the rest of my pack, and I don't want to see him hurt. Harry's strong, but he's lost too much and had the weight of the wizarding world's expectations on his shoulders for far too long. He deserves to be happy."

"I'm not going to hurt him," Ron said softly. Not if I can help it, he added silently.

"You wouldn't do it intentionally," Remus said.

Ron blinked, startled at Remus's easy reading of his thoughts.

"I don't think Harry can choose any other life. But it's different for you, Ron. I must confess, I was a little surprised that you two got together. You have quite a reputation with the ladies, you know. I expected you to marry in a few years."

"You and me both," Ron said wryly. He sipped at his coffee. Remus was watching him with friendly concern and Ron suddenly, desperately wanted to tell him everything. He'd bottled it all up. Had to, of course, because he couldn't risk anyone finding out. He had no one else he could confide in, and he really needed to talk.

"It must be difficult," Remus said gently. "I'm more than willing to listen, if you want to talk about it."

"It is hard. I can't really talk to Harry. I tried, once, but he got upset. He really..." Ron shook his head.

"He loves you, Ron."

"I know he does. But I - I didn't want to do this, Remus. It was just to get him out of my system. I was having these dreams. Ever since Diagon Alley. Not often, not at first. But they happened more and more. Dreams of him and me and... I hated them. You shouldn't have dreams about doing that with your best mate."

Remus looked surprised, and after a moment he asked, "Did they start at the same time as your wandering fits?"

Ron slowly shook his head. "No, the fits stopped when Harry came out of his coma, and the dreams didn't start until we'd all moved into the Diagon Alley flat. Why? Do you think they might be connected?"

"It's difficult to say. But needing to touch Harry, and then dreaming about him, well, it would seem possible that they're connected in some way, don't you think?"

Ron chewed his bottom lip as he considered Remus's words. "I never really thought about it before, but you could be right. I felt really protective of Harry, but I thought it was just because of the coma and everything. I wanted him to move into the flat with us to keep an eye on him. Make sure he was okay, you know? Of course, then Hermione started on about how me and her should have a place of our own, what with being engaged and everything, and I suppose she had a point. But I just kept putting her off, because it seemed like every time she raised the subject, I'd have another one of those dreams. So obviously I didn't even want to think about it."

"But surely... I'm sorry, do go on."

"No, it's okay. What were you going to say?"

"It seems to me that, if you were having unwelcome dreams about Harry, you would want to move as far away from him as possible," Remus said.

Ron huffed softly. "Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you. But it wasn't that simple. You see, when Hermione came home that day and told me she'd rented a flat for us, I..." Ron shook his head. "I can't explain it. It made me feel sick with worry or something. Just the thought of leaving him was... I felt like I was having a panic attack. I accused her of abandoning Harry and she said that I was overreacting and we ended up having a blazing row about it. Finally she pulled off her ring, threw it at me and said..." Ron paused. He'd dismissed Hermione's words as just the usual shit that people fling at each other in the heat of the moment. But she had been right. She'd told him that he cared for Harry more than he had ever cared for her.

"Anyway, she just packed up and left. Things were a bit awkward for a while, but then she started going out with Richard and I was really happy for her. Didn't bother me one bit. Which, when you think about, should have told me something, right?"

"You were probably too grateful to have her friendship back to question it."

"Yeah, exactly. I was just relieved that we could all be mates again. I told myself that me and her had just been a mistake, and that we were better off as friends. So then it was just me and Harry. And then... Then we went to the party that the twins had last New Year's Eve. We both got hammered. Don't remember how we got home, not really." Ron paused and licked his lips. It was horribly embarrassing, remembering this, but he needed to get it off his chest. "We ended up, er, sleeping together. Harry doesn't remember it. But I do. The dreams went away for a bit after that. So I sort of experimented. If I spent a lot of time with him, touching him - just friendly, you know, sling an arm around his shoulders, pat him on the back, well, I didn't dream so much. But the more I did that, the more I wanted to. Does that make sense?"

Remus nodded. "You were courting him, Ron," he said with a small smile.

Ron furrowed his brow as he considered Remus's comment. "I suppose I was," he said slowly. "Of course, I didn't see it that way. Anyway, it all came to a head when he took me to the new house. I'd had a fair bit to drink, and one thing led to another and he kissed me. And then he -" Ron stopped abruptly, feeling his face heat up.

"You slept together again?" Remus prompted.

"Yeah. And I thought, why not? Like when you fancy a girl, you know? Go out with her a few times, get her out of your system, then move on. So when he asked if I wanted to give him and me a try, I said yes. But then he went all stupid and wouldn't touch me, so I had to push him a bit. I thought we'd go to bed a few times and that'd be that. We'd go back to being mates, like me and Hermione did. But it didn't work out that way. It was like what happened after New Year's Eve all over again, only worse. It got so I missed him. All the time. I want to be with him all the time."

Ron fell silent again, and after a moment Remus said, "You didn't expect that?"

"No. I had it all worked out in my head, you know? I'm not - like Harry."

"You don't consider yourself to be homosexual?"

"Fuck, no! Just thinking about that was doing my head in. So I decided to ignore it. We were just mates who helped each other out. Nobody else's business, you know? I mean, it's not as if I've ever looked at another bloke like that. It's just Harry."

"That's certainly one way of looking at it."

Ron sighed. He rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. "The thing is, I probably could have made it work that way. Harry would have gone along with whatever I wanted. But I just couldn't. Because for something like that to work, you can't have a lot of feelings involved, you know? I've done it loads of times with girls. We've gone out, had a few laughs, had a great time in bed, and then gone our separate ways, no regrets. It was easy."

"Because you didn't care about them."

"I wouldn't say that," Ron said sharply. It had just been a bit of fun. Nothing serious. They knew that. Then he huffed and shook his head. Actually, it had been exactly like that. "No, you're right. I didn't care about them. So it didn't matter. That makes me sound like an utter prick, but it worked both ways, Remus."

"I'm sure it did," Remus said.

Ron looked up quickly, but couldn't see anything but sincerity on Remus's face.

"I told myself it worked both ways, anyway," Ron admitted. If he was honest with himself, more than one of his girlfriends had made it clear that they wanted more. And he'd always ended it then and there. "Even if it hadn't, I couldn't have changed things. As soon as there was a hint of something more, I couldn't handle it. It felt wrong."

And that was something that hadn't occurred to Ron before. He'd never really sat and thought about it, and he certainly hadn't talked to anyone about his dating habits. But since Hermione had left him, he'd had nothing but casual flings. Had not wanted anything more than that, in fact. Not with anyone but Harry, apparently.

"You know, Harry's the first serious relationship I've had since Hermione left me."

"So you consider your relationship with Harry serious, then?"

Ron looked blankly at Remus for a moment, then slowly nodded. He'd said it himself, hadn't he? He hadn't meant to, but the words had just slipped out. "I suppose I do," Ron finally admitted, as much to himself as to Remus. "It wasn't supposed to be, but..." Ron frowned as he considered this revelation.

"That must be a difficult thing for you to come to terms with."

Ron stared at Remus in confusion. "But... I thought you'd happy. For Harry, I mean."

"I want Harry to be happy. But not at your expense, Ron. And I do understand how hard this is for you."

Ron shook his head. "It's not..." He sighed explosively then said, "I'm no good at talking about this stuff, Remus."

Remus seemed to understand that Ron simply needed time to think, because he sat quietly, sipping his coffee, and waited. Ron knew that he didn't have to say anything more if he didn't want to. But he was surprised to find that talking things through with Remus really was helping him sort out how he felt. He could see now that he'd been heading towards a relationship with Harry for far longer than he'd realised. And it was definitely a relationship. Hermione had made it quite clear to him, usually in very small words, and sometimes rather loudly, exactly what a relationship entailed, and what he had with Harry definitely fitted the bill. And oddly enough, he could live with that. Because the feelings he had for Harry were... Well, suffice to say that he hadn't been this certain about his feelings with Hermione, even, and he'd asked her to marry him.

Ron slowly straightened in his chair, picked up his coffee and took a large gulp. "Bloody hell," he said softly. "If he was a girl, I'd marry him." He was speaking to himself, not Remus, so he was surprised when Remus spoke suddenly.

"But he's not, and that's the problem, isn't it?" Ron nodded absently, and Remus continued, "So what are you going to do?"

"Fucked if I know," Ron said. "Not much I can do, is there."

"You could leave him."

Ron's jaw dropped and he stared at Remus in disbelief. "I couldn't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because I lo-" Ron stopped abruptly, then huffed softly. Because he loved him. Because he couldn't imagine his life without Harry in it. Because he needed him.

Remus smiled. "Then you don't need to do anything except stop tying yourself in knots over it. You are Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin First Class, War Hero, loving son, loyal friend and honourable man. Loving Harry doesn't make you anything less."

Ron stilled. Remus's words seemed to echo in his head. He laughed softly and shook his head. "You're right. I'm an idiot. I know who I am. I... You're right." Remus was spot on. He was tying himself in knots over what he thought it said about him that he felt that way about another man. And none of that mattered. Because it was Harry.

"You're not an idiot, Ron. It's a difficult thing, coming to terms with something so fundamentally life changing. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Easy for you to say." Ron snapped his mouth shut, and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I forgot."

"Of course you did!" Remus said triumphantly. "And that's exactly my point. You're talking to Remus Lupin, a man who happens to get a little hairier than usual around the full moon. I know who I am, and I refuse to let my lycanthropy define me."

Ron nodded, a wide grin on his face. Remus raised his coffee cup in salute.

"Thanks. I mean it. Thanks for listening. It really helped," Ron said.

"You're very welcome. Any time you want to talk, I'm always happy to listen. And what we talk about stays between the two of us." Remus drained his cup and stood up. "And on that note, I think it's probably time you took Sleeping Beauty home. Some of us have to be up for work in the morning."

"Right." Ron pushed himself to his feet and followed Remus out into the hallway. Suddenly remembering his earlier concerns about Harry, Ron said, "Remus, was Harry all right when he got here? It's just, he seemed fine. He gave this really great speech praising Dad, you know? The reporters lapped it up, and they took a ton of photographs. But after lunch he got all quiet, and then he suddenly said he had to go."

Remus gave Ron a considered look and said, "I think he just felt a little overwhelmed. Your mother can be a tad, um, overbearing."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I know what Mum's like, Remus. You don't have to try and be tactful." He cast his mind back to lunch, trying to remember what had happened. "Actually, Percy told Mum that he and Penny are getting married. She was carrying on a bit about that, and needling the rest of us about when we're going to settle down and give her grandchildren, all that sort of thing."

"Ah."

Ron could have kicked himself. He loved his mum, he really did. But, like the rest of his siblings, he paid little attention to what she said. It simply wasn't worth arguing with her. They all had, of course, when she'd managed to hit a particularly sore spot, but the histrionics that ensued were unbelievable. So now they just nodded along politely when she told them how to run their lives and then carried on regardless.

"You think he'd be used to her by now and just ignore her like the rest of us do. He's a pillock," Ron said fondly. "It's my decision. I'm a big boy now, and I'm capable of deciding what I do with my life. Not everything's his fault."

Remus chuckled. "Well, if you can convince him of that, you'll be doing better than I ever could," he said as he pushed open the living room door. Harry was still sound asleep, sprawled on the couch and snoring loudly. "Come on, I'll give you a hand getting Harry into the Floo."

Ron slipped an arm under Harry's shoulders and hoisted him up. Harry opened his eyes and peered blearily at Ron for a moment. Then he broke into a smile.

"Ron!"

"C'mon, mate. Time to get you home."

"'kay," Harry muttered. He wrapped his arms around Ron, rested his head on his shoulder, and promptly fell asleep again.

"Are you going to be all right with him?"

"I'll manage. See you later. And thanks," Ron said as he shuffled them both over to the fireplace. Remus threw in a handful of Floo power and Ron called out their destination as he manhandled Harry into the green flames.

-----

The days seemed to fly by. It felt like Harry had barely had a moment to himself, and it was something of a relief to step once more into the calm of Grimmauld Place.

Remus looked tired, the ravages of the last full moon still apparent, but he smiled cheerfully as he greeted them. "Dora's in the kitchen. I thought we'd eat in there, rather than the formal dining room."

"Good idea," Harry agreed.

"Tonks is cooking?" Ron said, a look of horror on his face. Remus chuckled.

"No. Don't worry, dinner will be edible. Actually, your house-elves have taken over the kitchen. Said they'd heard you two were coming for dinner and that they'd be cooking it. They even brought their own food. Winky got quite tearful when I said we could manage, so I left them to it. Tonks is just having a cup of tea."

"We're leaving for Egypt next Sunday, and I think Dobby and Winky are determined to take care of us for as long as they can before we go," Harry said.

Remus pushed open the kitchen door and they followed him in. Winky was doing something over by the stove, and Dobby was chatting with Tonks, who looked up and smiled as they came in.

"Dobby's just giving me all the gossip," Tonks said with a wink.

"Dobby would never gossip about Harry Potter and his Wheezy Ron!" Dobby said indignantly.

"She's just teasing," Harry said soothingly. "We know you'd never do that."

"Park your bums. From what I gather, dinner's just about ready," Tonks said.

Plates, cutlery and glasses were already laid out, and just as Harry, Ron and Remus sat down, serving platters appeared.

"We is going now, and coming back later for cleaning up," Dobby said, glaring at Tonks before he and Winky vanished.

"That elf's certainly got some attitude," Tonks said. "Though why he thinks I'm going to clean up and deprive them of the work, I don't know."

"He might be getting you mixed up with Mum," Ron said as he began helping himself to some meat.

"Thank you very much, Ronald Weasley," Tonks snapped. Ron went bright red and began stammering out an apology.

"Leave the boy alone," Remus said mildly, and Tonks grinned.

"Sorry, Ron, only messing around with you. Dig in, everyone."

Tonks regaled them with funny stories about the weird people and problems they dealt with in the Auror department as they ate, and when even Ron couldn't fit in another bite, they took coffee through into the living room to relax.

"So what did you end up doing for Hermione's hen night?" Remus asked. "That was last night, I believe?"

"Yeah. Harry booked a table at this really posh Muggle restaurant," Ron said. "I was just glad to sit down, myself. We'd spent the day moving out of the flat and cleaning the place up so it was ready for Lee to move in. We didn't get finished until almost six, and we had to pick her up at seven. I was knackered."

"Still, I'm sure she appreciated it," Remus said.

"Oh, yeah, she loved it. Seemed dead impressed with the place. Dunno why. The food was a bit odd, I reckon. Sort of laid out on the plates in patterns, and there was hardly anything of it. To be honest, I didn't have a clue what half of it was. But I was starving, so I ate it anyway, and Harry made me some sandwiches when we got home, so that was okay. But yeah, she really seemed to enjoy herself, didn't she, Harry?"

Harry smiled. He'd spent a great deal of money and Blaise and Martin had called in several favours on his behalf to get a booking at that particular restaurant, where reservations were more sought-after than the Holy Grail and the chef hailed as a culinary genius. Hermione had been ecstatic, particularly when said chef had come out of his kitchen to drink a toast to her impending nuptials with them.

"Yeah, she did, mate. Actually, speaking of Hermione, she asked me to make sure that you two are at least coming to the church next Saturday, and she said you're still welcome at the reception. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Tonks and Remus exchanged glances. "We're coming to the church, Harry, but I don't think I'd feel comfortable at the reception. I don't want to cause problems on her special day, and Richard's relatives are very - well, very traditional. They would refuse to sit and eat in the same room as a Dark creature, and they'd make sure everyone knew about it." He raised a hand in a quelling motion. "I know that she couldn't care less, and that means a lot to us. She's invited us to dinner with them when they return from their honeymoon, and we'd prefer that."

Tonks nodded her emphatic agreement with Remus's words, and Harry sighed.

"I see your point. It wouldn't be very enjoyable for you. But it's still not right."

"So, you two all packed and ready to go?" Tonks said brightly, and Harry let the subject drop.

"Yeah. Dobby brought home two bottomless backpacks, and with shrinking charms we could pretty much pack up the whole house and take it with us if we wanted to."

"It'll be really good to see Charlie again. And Bill and Fleur and the kids, too, of course," Ron added. "But we saw them at Christmas, and I haven't seen Charlie for nearly two years."

"I'd say give him a kiss from me, but I don't think Remus would like that," Tonks said with grin.

"Oh, I don't mind, I can be gracious in victory," Remus said. Tonks laughed, then dropped a kiss on his lips. "It's a wonderful opportunity for you two, staying on the Reserve. They don't normally allow casual visitors, you know."

"Yeah. Charlie made some cryptic remark in his owl to us about possibly being asked to do a favour for someone. As long as we don't have to get too close to any dragons, I'm game for anything," Ron said.

"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't mind riding one," Harry said.

Ron shot Harry an incredulous look and shook his head. "Sooner you than me, mate."

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun. I'll hang on tight to you so you don't fall on your arse," Harry said with a grin. "And if you do, I'll kiss it better."

Ron blushed as he glared at Harry, whose eyes widened as he suddenly realised what he had just said. And more to the point, who he had said it in front of. There was a sudden, awkward silence.

"Well," Tonks said cheerfully. "That could have been horribly embarrassing. Fortunately for you two, Remus already told me that you're here to tactfully sound out my feelings about you two having it off. For the record, it doesn't surprise me one bit."

Remus closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Harry and Ron just stared at her in disbelief.

"What? Am I supposed to be outraged or something? Please! Some of us have led a slightly more interesting life than the average witch, you know. I've visited some very interesting corners of Muggle London. You'd be surprised what you stumble across, and my Muggle mates were very blasé about the whole thing. In fact," she gave them an evil grin, "watching a couple of attractive blokes get hot and heavy was a bit of a turn on. So don't hold back on my account, boys."

"Nymphadora!"

Tonks poked her tongue out at Remus, then burst out laughing. "You should see your faces!" she stuttered.

Harry couldn't help but join in her laughter. Ron sniggered a bit self-consciously, and despite his mock-disapproval, Remus was smiling fondly at Tonks.

"Seriously, Harry, Ron," Tonks said once she'd calmed down a bit. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest. Dad always told me to think for myself and make up my own mind about how I feel about things. He always felt that wizards had a very blinkered view of the world. It helped me to cope, especially when I realised how different I was. Not everyone was kind or accepting, believe me. And let's face it, if I bought into all that pure-blood prejudice rubbish, I'd never have married Remus, now would I?"

"I still don't understand why you did," Remus said. "I'm not exactly much of a catch, and you're a beautiful young woman who could have had anyone she wanted."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "So you keep telling me, Remus. And as I keep telling you, I did get who I wanted. You." She leant across and dropped a kiss on Remus's lips. "Right, now that's out of the way, what are we playing tonight?" She picked up the pack of cards that was lying on the coffee table and shuffled them with the professional dexterity of a seasoned card player. "I'm thinking Five Card Brag. There's a very nice pair of shoes that I've got my eye on. They're rather expensive, but I'm sure you gentlemen will be happy to help me pay for them."

Harry snorted, then shared a smile with a rather dubious looking Ron. Tonks really was a very good card player, and they would in all probability end up doing exactly what she predicted. With a loud sigh he pulled out his wallet. "Should I just hand this to you now, or wait till later?"

"You hang on to it for the moment, Harry. After all, you might win." This comment was greeting with looks of profound disbelief. Tonks sniggered and continued, "Well no, you're right. You're rubbish at cards. But Ron's pretty good, so you might not be totally skint by the time you go home."

"Pay no attention to them," Remus said to Ron as he opened the large tin box he'd brought in from the kitchen with him. It was full of tiny, individually wrapped chocolates. He placed a pile in front of each of them as Tonks dealt the cards. Ron immediately unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth.

"That's your bloody kitty. Stop eating it," Tonks said. Harry saw Ron guiltily stuff the chocolate wrapper into his pocket, and winked at him. "Okay, boys. Two in the pot to start, deuces wild, any questions?"

Everybody shook their heads. Harry studied his cards and sighed. It didn't matter which cards he discarded, because they were all useless. He glanced at Ron, who was looking quite pleased with his hand. Ron looked up from studying his cards and smiled as he caught Harry looking at him.

"C'mon, Harry. Stop making cow eyes at your boyfriend. You're up first."

Harry shook his head and threw out two cards at random. It didn't matter - he'd lose anyway. But that didn't matter either. He was thoroughly enjoying himself with three of the people who mattered most to him in the world. He sacrificed a small chocolate from his kitty and settled in happily for a night of losing at cards.

-----


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

-----

The weeks leading up to Hermione's wedding were insanely busy, and before they knew it Harry and Ron found themselves standing in the living room of Hermione's parents' house, waiting to escort her to the church.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," Ron muttered to Harry, who was staring out of the living room window, waiting for the limousines to arrive.

Harry felt his stomach drop. Keeping his gaze firmly on the street, he said, "Bit late to change your mind about her now, mate."

"What?"

A hand tugged on his arm, and Harry turned to see Ron shaking his head as he smiled at him.

"That wasn't what I meant, Harry," Ron said softly. "I'm not interested in changing my mind. Ever. You got that?" At Harry's hesitant nod, Ron looked cautiously around the deserted room and then pulled Harry into a searing kiss. "And don't you ever forget that," he said as they reluctantly moved apart. "Now, what time did Dad say he'd be sending the cars?"

Harry glanced at his watch. "They should be here in about fifteen minutes or so. He's sending two here, one for Hermione's mum, you, me, and Ginny, and the other one for Hermione and her dad. He was sending another one to pick up her grandparents, and he said he was going to arrange for someone to act as an escort for them until we get to the church. Probably a Muggle-born."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said mildly.

Harry snorted softly. He was babbling. "Sorry. Guess you're not the only one who's not ready for this."

"It's just nerves," Ron said. "Imagine the state Hermione must be in."

"Probably cool as a cucumber, knowing her. Though after the rehearsal, I don't know how she could be."

The wedding rehearsal had been a debacle. It should only have involved the immediate wedding party: the celebrant, of course, Richard and his groomsmen, Hermione and her attendants, and the couple's parents. So Harry had been very surprised to see at least thirty people at the church when he, Ron and Ginny arrived. Various relatives and the odd friend on Richard's side had decided to come along, and it soon became obvious that many of them were only there to gawk at Harry.

Tempers had become frayed as the evening wore on. It seemed that either Richard's mother or Hermione's mother stopped the proceedings constantly to reposition someone or change something. And the impromptu audience became noisier and more disruptive as time went on. Ron began muttering darkly about punching the next person who called him a bridesmaid, and Harry was getting heartily sick of the whispering and staring.

Oddly enough it had been calm, self-possessed Hermione who had finally snapped. She had climbed on top of a pew, brandished her wand menacingly and threatened to show the next person who disrupted her wedding rehearsal exactly what she had learnt during the war. Richard had coaxed her down, and the rehearsal had gone surprisingly well, after that.

"But that was good, mate," Ron protested. "The wedding rehearsal is supposed to be a disaster. Gets it all out of the way. You'll see. The wedding will go off perfectly."

"Difficult to see how it could possibly go any worse," Harry said. "Not every day you see the bride hold the wedding party at wandpoint."

Ron sniggered. "Now that would have made a great picture for the wedding album. I..." Ron paused, his gaze drifting over Harry's shoulder, and Harry turned to see Ginny coming down the stairs. She was wearing an elegantly cut, feminine version of the dark green ornate formal dress robes Harry and Ron were wearing. A moment later, Hermione appeared. She took Harry's breath away for a moment, and he glanced at Ron to see him gaping at her.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, you look gorgeous!" Ron said.

She glared at him. "Don't sound so surprised," she snapped.

"I wasn't - I didn't mean it like that, you know -" He stopped abruptly as Hermione burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Ron. I know you didn't. I was only teasing. So, what do you think?"

She twirled slowly on the spot. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and seemed to have some sort of shiny flowers dotted through it. It reminded Harry of how she'd had it done for a Hogwarts Ball years ago. She was wearing a cream satin wedding robe with the same delicate gold embroidery as the attendants' robes. The pearl dangly earrings and necklace she was wearing matched it well, Harry thought.

"You've never looked more beautiful," Harry said softly.

"See, told you!" Ginny said.

At that moment, Hermione's mum bustled down the stairs, saying, "Okay, the flowers are on the hall table, and - where's your father?" She glanced quickly around the living room and then headed out into the kitchen. "John, where on earth are you? The cars will be here any minute."

"He's hiding out in the garden," Ron said quietly to Harry. "Don't blame him, really. Hermione's mum's been on his back all morning about the dress robes."

John Granger had refused point blank to wear full wizarding dress robes. He had stated, calmly but firmly, that there was no way he was wearing a dress to his daughter's wedding, no matter what they called it. He'd finally agreed to wear a lightweight charcoal grey silk robe over a classic Morning suit, saying it looked just like academic garb and he could live with that, and his wife had eventually given in.

"I was just keeping out of everyone's way, Helen. Don't get your knickers in a knot," John said as he walked into the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his daughter. "Oh my goodness," he said softly. "My baby girl is getting married." He inhaled sharply, and Helen Granger stuffed a handful of tissues into his hand before grabbing a few more and heading over to Hermione. John blew his nose loudly and Helen shoved some tissues at Hermione, who was looking rather watery around the eyes.

"Don't you dare smear your make-up," Helen said, and Hermione grinned at her mother as Ginny plucked the tissues from her hand and dabbed delicately at the corner of Hermione's eyes.

"Disaster averted," Ginny said. Then she tutted loudly, pulled out her wand, made a complex little motion in front of Hermione's face as she muttered something, then said, "There, should have done that in the first place. You won't shift that make-up with anything less than a _Finite _now."

The arrival of the Ministry cars prompted another flurry of activity, and when Helen was certain that everyone had remembered to bring everything they needed, they were finally on their way.

-----

The actual wedding ceremony was a bit of a blur to Harry. He kept getting lost in his memories, and found it rather disconcerting that such a happy day for Hermione was making him feel so depressed. But then he remembered the look on John Granger's face when he'd first seen Hermione in her wedding dress. She was all grown up, on the verge of creating a new family for herself, and Harry found himself mourning the loss of the eleven year old know-it-all, the seventeen year old Horcrux hunter, and the twenty-one year old comrade-in-arms, just as John was mourning the loss of his little girl.

"We haven't lost her, you know, it's just part of growing up," Ron whispered to him. Harry nodded and plastered a smile on his face.

Suddenly everyone was on their feet as the music swelled and the bride and groom were heading outside for the photographs.

It was a beautiful day. Warm and sunny, and Hermione looked absolutely radiant standing next to Richard as Colin Creevey began setting up the groups for the wedding photographs.

Harry caught up with Remus and Tonks outside the church, and he and Ron stood chatting with them when they weren't being dragged off to be photographed. The little group soon swelled into an impromptu Hogwarts reunion, and Harry was sure Hermione would be touched that so many people had wanted to come along to see her get married and wish her well. She had invited friends from school, of course, but only those that she had really known well, mainly Gryffindor year mates and Luna Lovegood, though Luna had been invited more for Neville's benefit than anything else.

The presence of Draco Malfoy caused heads to turn and tongues to wag, but he seemed supremely indifferent to it all as he greeted Harry and Remus. He stayed only long enough to remind Remus that he and Tonks were expected at the Manor for dinner that evening, and then with a cordial nod he Disapparated.

A minute or so after that, Arthur and Molly approached the group, greeting Remus and Tonks with hugs. Arthur seemed vaguely embarrassed at his newly acquired entourage, and nodded ruefully when Remus pointed out that it came with the territory. Arthur told Remus to come and see him when he had a spare moment, as he needed his advice about certain laws and regulations that he was considering scrapping. If Harry had entertained any regrets about what he'd done to Scrimgeour, the look of hope on Remus's face was enough to squash them completely.

As the afternoon wore on, people started to drift away. Off home, or to get a drink and have a sit down, Harry thought irritably. He was hot and tired and just about ready to hex Colin Creevey and his cameras into the next century, when finally the cheery man shouted out, "Okay, I think that's about it, everyone. I'll be taking photographs at the reception as well, but most of those will be candid. You've all been very patient, and the new Mr and Mrs Grantham wish to thank you all for your forbearance!"

Harry felt a twinge of guilt, but dismissed it easily when Ron said, "Thank Christ that's over. I was ready to hex the bastard. Let's get to the reception. I'd kill for a drink."

Harry gave him a grin and muttered, "Yeah, me too. What on earth possessed Hermione to hire him?"

"You're kidding, right? The rich and famous have fist fights over who gets him to photograph their social events! He's booked out for the next fifty years or something, apparently. But as soon as he found out Hermione was getting married, he contacted her and insisted that he do her wedding and the reception afterwards, free of charge. And he never does wedding reception photos. People have offered him a fortune, and he tells them no 'cause he hates doing it. But he says he owes her. Put quite a few noses out of joint, apparently."

"Did he now? Well good for him. He's an annoying git, but you have to admit he always took a bloody good photo," Harry said as they headed over to gather up Hermione's relatives.

Richard's mother, Cassiopeia, had spent a day with Helen and Hermione comparing notes on how a wizarding wedding might differ from a Muggle one. Helen had thought the wizarding traditions charming, and had readily agreed to hold the wedding and reception at magical venues. While this made things much easier for the vast majority of participants and guests, it did mean that Hermione's relatives would have to wear a charmed bracelet that negated the Muggle-Repelling charms and wards on both the church and the reception centre. They would also have to be escorted to Winfarthing Manor, where the reception was being held, as the normal methods of arrival were Floo or Apparition. This task had been given to Harry and Ron, so they settled Hermione's parents and grandparents into the magically expanded car, checked that they all still had their charmed bracelets, and set off for the reception.

-----

Cassiopeia Grantham and Helen Granger had the day organised with military precision, and so far everything was going perfectly to plan.

The two hundred or so guests had arrived at Winfarthing Manor in dribs and drabs over the course of the afternoon to drink cocktails, eat canapes and gossip about each other in the salon while awaiting the arrival of the bridal party.

At 6 p.m. precisely, the ballroom doors were opened and the guests were escorted to their tables by neatly clad house-elves. Hermione had refused to allow them to serve at the reception unless they were paid, which caused a minor incident as the elves flatly refused. Finally, Dobby stepped in and ran the negotiations, and when he presented Hermione with a list of small items that the elves would not be unhappy to suddenly find in their dens, honour on all sides was satisfied.

The large ballroom was stunningly decorated. A small orchestra was playing, and circular tables were arranged around a central dance floor, with the wedding party to be seated at a long table at the head of the room. The crisply starched linen, highly polished silver and crystal were complemented by delicate floral arrangements in the centre of each table. The bridal table had something extra, though. At the centre stood a crystal ball on an ornate gold filigree stand. Helen Granger had been enchanted when Cassiopeia Grantham had told her of the tradition. The head of each family gave a formal blessing to the married couple, activating the charmed Orb. It would shine as the charm was activated, and glow more and more brightly as each Paterfamilias added their magic.

"A brightly glowing Bonding Orb ensures a happy household," Cassiopeia had stated firmly. No one had dared argue with her.

Once everyone was seated, the wedding party entered the room to applause from the assembled guests, and took their places at the head table. Speeches were given and toasts were made while a great deal of food and drink was consumed. And then, table by table, the head of each family made their way to the head table to greet the newly married couple and make the formal blessing on their Bonding Orb. Arthur Weasley, as the newly elected Minister for Magic, was first to add his blessings, and when the head of the last table sat down, Harry noticed that everyone seemed to be looking in his direction. He sighed. He hated the awed expressions and whispered comments that inevitably greeted his appearance in wizarding society.

"Your turn, mate. You're the last head to go," Ron whispered. "Remember, Black as well as Potter. And don't forget to use your bloody wand!"

Harry gave him a pleading look, but Ron nudged him none-too-gently out of his chair and Harry sighed before rising as gracefully as he could and walking around to the front of the table.

"The Houses of Potter and Black formally acknowledge the marriage of the Heir of the House of Grantham." Then he lowered his voice and ad-libbed, "To the most wonderful woman in the world. And the lucky bastard had better take damn good care of the best thing that ever happened to him!" Hermione sniffled and gave Harry a watery smile as Richard grinned widely and nodded. Harry raised his voice and continued the formal declaration. "I wish you both a long, happy and fruitful life together." He raised his wand and swept it in the complex little pattern that Hermione had made him practice endlessly while saying, "_Scito hoc super omnia. Amor est vitae essentia_." Then he tapped his wand on the Bonding Orb and said, "_Amore donatum.__ Exhibeatur!_"

There was a blinding flash, and the gently glowing Orb was suddenly sparkling as though it held a thousand stars. The gentle murmuring in the room suddenly rose in volume. Harry shared a wary look with Hermione and said softly, "Oops. Might have gone a bit overboard there."

He was standing directly in front of the Orb, so all anyone not in the wedding party had seen was the blinding flash. Harry immediately toned the Orb down, but left it twinkling brightly.

"Goodness, he's a powerful young man," Harry heard Richard's mother comment faintly as he resumed his seat.

Richard stood up and formally thanked everyone for their blessings and good wishes on the occasion of his marriage, and then he led Hermione down to lead the first dance. Several other couples soon joined them, and a lively version of musical chairs seemed to break out as people wandered from table to table. Richard's mother gave Harry and Ron a pointed stare, and Harry smothered a sigh as he led one of Richard's younger sisters down to dance, Ron following behind with the other. Ginny made a beeline for the Weasley family table, dodging her way through the crowd who came to introduce themselves to the new Minister, and dragged her boyfriend out onto the floor. The twins were eyeing off a pair of rather shapely witches at the next table, and Mrs Weasley was vigorously dabbing at her eyes as she watched Percy and Penny dancing. Doubtless imagining another wedding to come, Harry thought as he danced past their table.

Richard's mother had been astonishingly accommodating when Hermione had told her that she wanted Percy and his fiancee to attend both the wedding and the reception, assuring Hermione that it would be no bother at all. Hermione had been pleasantly surprised, having expected a fight over ruined seating numbers and catering arrangements. Richard had told Harry, somewhat wryly, that his mother would have cheerfully evicted a whole table of his more distant relatives if it meant making the Minister for Magic and his family happy. Had, in fact, shuffled several of them around, squashing them onto other tables to accommodate the security personnel that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had insisted upon for the Minister's safety.

There appeared to be a never-ending supply of matrons eagerly introducing their over-awed daughters to Harry, and he danced with an endless procession of stammering, blushing young women. The music stopped for a moment, and Harry gritted his teeth as he felt another hand on his shoulder, but broke into a smile as he turned to see Hermione grinning at him.

"My turn," she said, and Harry gratefully swept her into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, "but you seem to be a major attraction. And Cassiopeia was quite firm about all members of the wedding party 'fulfilling their duty'."

Harry dropped a kiss on her cheek and said, "Don't worry about it, I'll survive. It's your day and you're the one who's important. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Hermione smiled dreamily. "It's been perfect. Cassiopeia and Mum have driven us all insane with their micro-management and planning, but they were right. Everything has gone perfectly. Well, apart from an over-enthusiastic best friend who almost blew up our Bonding Orb."

Harry grimaced. "Do you think anyone noticed?"

"You toned it down pretty quickly. And to be honest, I think most people would have been disappointed if you hadn't done something a bit special." The music started to slow down, and Hermione said, "Why don't you go and sit down with Molly and Arthur for a bit? Have a drink and rest your feet. I'm going to grab Ron for a dance and then I'll send him over."

They steered their way towards Ron, who made his excuses to his current partner, winked at Harry and took Hermione in his arms. Harry moved quickly through the crowd and gratefully took a seat at the practically deserted Weasley table. Ginny smiled at him from her perch on David's knee.

"Having fun, Harry?"

Harry glared at her and said, "My bloody feet are killing me. How did you get out of bridal party duties?"

"Oh, I have my ways," Ginny said with a grin. "Besides, there's no shortage of single girls to dance with. It's eligible bachelors, particularly distinguished war hero-type eligible bachelors, that are in high demand this evening."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered, a disgruntled look on his face. It quickly turned to one of relief as Dobby appeared at his side with a large scotch on the rocks. "You're a lifesaver, Dobby. Enjoying yourself?"

Dobby nodded, a wide grin on his little face. "We is so busy, Harry Potter. So much to do! Winky and Dobby is having so much fun!"

"That's the main thing," Harry said. "Actually, Ron'll be over in a minute to rest his feet, too. You couldn't bring him a drink, could you?"

"Anything Harry Potter's Wheezy wants," Dobby said cheerfully before bustling off again.

Shaking his head at the peculiarities of house-elves, and one house-elf in particular, Harry picked up his scotch and took an appreciative sip.

"Harry Potter's Wheezy?" Ginny said, an amused look on her face.

Harry shot a quelling glare at her. "Where's everyone got to?"

"They're all dancing. We'd only just sat down ourselves when you got here."

At that moment, Dobby reappeared with Ron's drink, closely followed by Ron himself, who picked it up and took a long swallow before dropping into the seat next to Harry. A second later, Molly and Arthur returned from dancing, and Molly gave them both a kiss on the cheek before sitting down with a sigh next to Ron.

"Such a lovely wedding, and Hermione looks beautiful," Molly said. "I do hope that young man appreciates what he's got. I had hoped..." Her voice trailed off as she eyed Ron sadly. Ron wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulder and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"It just didn't work out, Mum. She's like a sister to me, really. We're just best friends, and we're both much happier that way."

Molly nodded glumly and turned her attention to Harry. "And I'd hoped that you and Ginny -"

"Stop right there, Mum," Ginny said firmly. "We gave it a try, but it just felt all wrong." She glanced at Harry, who nodded vigorously. "It was like trying to date Ron, or Bill. He's my brother, one of the family, Mum. Everybody knows that. And I'm very happy with David, thank you very much." She gave David a quick kiss and then stood up and dragged him off to dance again.

"So, are you boys all ready to go?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah. Bill's meeting us at Gringotts in Cairo. Director Ragnok offered us the use of one of their staff Portkeys, so we can go directly from Diagon Alley without having to cross any European checkpoints. We can do the same when we go to visit Charlie," Ron said.

"Well, that's a stroke of luck for you two," Arthur said. "International Portkey travel can be a terribly arduous process otherwise. And the Floo is even worse. I can tell you some stories..."

Harry nodded vaguely as his attention wandered to the dance floor. He watched Richard sweep Hermione around the floor, and smiled. They looked so happy. Percy and Penny squeezing past his chair brought his attention back to the table in time to see the twins whisk the witches from the next table out for another dance. They did like to live dangerously. If Angelina and Katie found out they'd be in for a world of hurt. Harry noticed Colin popping in and out of view as he snapped shots of the guests, and wasn't terribly surprised when he dropped into the vacant seat next to him.

"Haven't seen you in ages, Harry! How's it going?"

"Great, thanks, Colin. How's the photography business?"

"Brilliant, mate! Some of the do's can be dead boring, but I make them pay extra. And they do! Can you believe that? Sometimes I can't believe I get paid for doing something I love. How lucky is that?"

Harry gave Colin a genuine smile. "I'm really pleased for you, mate. Just make sure I get a copy of the photos, yeah?"

"Of course! I got some nice shots of you two with Hermione, and a couple with just you and Ron which you should like," Colin said enthusiastically. "And of course, I'll be making a special set for Hermione's family. I've come up with this technique that freezes wizarding photographs. It's a voice activated perpetual charm. I key the charm to the Muggle relative, and they can switch off the freezing charm for five-minute intervals so they can really enjoy the photograph the way the rest of us can. I wanted to make both on and off voice activated, but that was considered to be a violation of the Statue of bloody Secrecy." A hint of irritation crept into Colin's voice as he continued, "Honestly, the bloody Ministry acts as though Muggles are utter morons who can't be trusted to keep a secret. They forget that they're our families, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, mate," Harry said soothingly.

"Anyway, enough of that. Back to the fray!" Colin said as he shot Harry a grin and then darted out onto the dance floor to take some more photographs. Harry shook his head as he picked up his glass, but before he could take a drink he felt someone tap his arm.

"Harry, you and Ron should be out there dancing," Molly said firmly. For an insane moment, Harry pictured himself whirling Ron around the floor as Molly continued, "You know it's part of the duties of the bride's attendants, and Richard's mother is glaring at you."

Harry nodded in resignation, and glanced at Ron's glum expression. "Come on, mate. Looks like the break is over," he said. He took a gulp of his drink and dragged Ron behind him as they headed over to the table where some of Richard's younger cousins were sitting.

Not a moment too soon, in Harry's opinion, the departure of the bride and groom was announced. There was a fierce group hug as Hermione hung on tightly to Ron and Harry.

"Have a wonderful time, and send me lots of postcards," she said to them as she kissed them both.

"We will. And you have a great time in Paris," Harry said.

Hermione sniffled and hugged them both tightly again.

"We'll see you soon, Hermione. We're only going on holiday!" Ron said with a grin.

Richard appeared behind Hermione, and Ron reached out an arm and dragged him into the group hug for a moment. And then, in a mad flurry of confetti and good wishes, they were gone. Ron headed back into the dining room with his family, and Harry took the opportunity to step outside for a moment for a breath of fresh air. As he stood quietly gazing up at the stars, he became aware of voices drifting out from an open window.

"...happy that your heir has married that sort of person is beyond me, Cassiopeia. And what of their children?"

"And exactly what sort of person is that, Lacerta? The sort who's been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class? The sort who is, I am reliably informed by those whose business it is to know these things, a very powerful young witch who is destined for great things in the Ministry? As for their children, now let me see. I think there's a prominent member of our society whose father was of pure-blood stock and whose mother was of Muggle parentage. Rather powerful and charismatic young man, Head of two ancient Houses, close friend of my son and daughter-in-law. You know the one. Sorted out that hideously embarrassing Dark Lord problem? Hermione rather reminds me of his mother. Same brilliant mind and fiery passion. I think we're extremely fortunate that Richard has made such a good marriage. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have guests to attend to."

Harry smiled as he went back inside. Hermione's mother-in-law had just gone up in his estimation.

-----

"My bloody feet are killing me," Harry said as he dropped into a chair and slipped his shoes off.

Ron toed his shoes off and stretched out his feet. "I hate to think how many women trod on my feet tonight. Lucky I can still walk."

"The wedding went well, though. Hermione seemed happy."

"Yeah. It's got Mum all fired up, though. Should probably be grateful Percy's getting married. At least she's not harping on about the rest of us too much with that to distract her."

"True enough."

Ron slumped back in his chair and yawned widely.

"Sorry mate, long day."

"I know. C'mon." Harry levered himself out of his chair, grabbed hold of Ron's hand and pulled him to his feet. "There's one last thing before we go to bed. Will you dance with me?" Harry asked as slipped his arms around Ron's neck, and Ron found himself smiling indulgently as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

"You're the only one I wanted to dance with all night."

"Mm, me too," Harry said. He tilted his head, and soft music suddenly drifted around them.

"I hated watching all those women pawing at you," Ron said as they swayed to the music. "I hate that they can do that and I can't tell them to keep their hands off. And listening to Mum go on and on about this girl and that girl, and who'd be a suitable match for you, or me." He sighed. "Sometimes I wish..." He tightened his arms and Harry nuzzled his neck.

"I know," Harry said. Then he leant in and dropped a gentle kiss on Ron's lips. "I love you."

"I..."

Ron wanted to say it. He really did. He'd almost said it several times over the past few weeks. But he knew that if he said the words there was no going back. He wasn't sure he was ready to take that step.

"It's okay," Harry said softly. "You don't have to say it."

There was a smile on Harry's face, but Ron could clearly see the longing in his eyes. And as he stared into those eyes, full of love for him, and felt Harry warm and solid in his arms, he knew. He knew there would be no going back anyway, whether he said the words or not. Because he did love Harry. He'd already said it a thousand times, in every gesture and touch, and suddenly the words were there.

"I do, you know. Love you, I mean," Ron said. Then he dipped his head down and captured Harry's lips. Ron gasped into the kiss as a wave of heat rushed through him, and as his eyes flew open in surprise he saw that every light in the room was blazing, and he and Harry were floating a good foot off the floor. Before he could say anything, they gently drifted down again and the lights dimmed once more. Harry grinned sheepishly.

"At least I know you're happy about it," Ron quipped.

"You have no idea," Harry said. He was staring at Ron, an odd expression on his face. Finally he said, "I have something I want to give you. I was waiting for the right moment, and I think this is it." He took a step back, then held out his hand. As he opened it, Ron saw that he was holding a ring. "This is for you."

Ron picked the ring up to examine it, and almost dropped it when he saw what it was.

"It's your family ring," Ron said in surprise. He looked up to see Harry watching him intently, a hopeful expression on his face.

"I love you, Ron," Harry said softly. "Will you accept it?"

Ron slowly shook his head. "You can't give this to me, Harry. That's for the girl you're going to marry." He pressed the ring back into Harry's hand, surprised at how reluctant he was to return it.

Harry huffed softly. "There's never going to be a girl, Ron. You're the only one I want to marry, and I can't, for obvious reasons. This is as close as I can get."

"But... But it's your family ring. I mean, if anyone saw me wearing it -"

"They won't. I'll charm it so only someone who knows it's there can see it," Harry quickly assured Ron, who continued to stare at the ring in confusion. Eventually, Harry sighed and said, "I shouldn't have sprung this on you."

Ron's mind was working furiously. For a fleeting moment, he toyed with the idea that perhaps Harry didn't really understand what it meant to give someone your family ring. But one look at Harry's face was enough to make him quickly dismiss the idea. From what Harry had said, and the way he was looking at Ron, it was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing. Harry was apparently very serious about doing this, and even though Ron knew that he should dismiss the idea out of hand - it was patently ridiculous, after all - something within him rebelled.

"No, just - just give me a minute, mate," Ron said quickly.

Harry nodded. He reached out, took Ron's hand and carefully placed the ring on his palm, closing his hand around it. Then he turned and walked out into the kitchen, leaving Ron standing in the middle of the living room.

Ron slumped onto the couch and slowly opened his hand. He contemplated the heavy gold ring lying there. If it had been anything other than Harry's family ring, he'd have accepted it without a second thought. But this... Ron sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. The thought of giving the ring back made something twist inside him. But he couldn't accept it. It just wasn't done, surely Harry knew that? The head of a family simply did not give his family ring to another man, no matter how he might feel about him. It wasn't just a piece of jewellery. It was... Ron shook his head in frustration. It was a family ring for fuck's sake. It was old magic. Tradition. And the only person you ever gave it to was your wife...

Ron's internal monologue came to a screeching halt.

But that was never going to happen, was it? Harry had said it himself. He was very definitely Beating for the other team. And he was in love with Ron...and Ron loved him right back. Ron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was exactly what Remus had talked to him about. Ron wanted to spend his life with Harry. If Harry had been a girl, he'd marry him. Right now. No hesitation. So what on earth was he tying himself in knots about? If Harry wanted to give Ron his family ring, then why the hell shouldn't Ron accept it? Fuck tradition.

Ron pushed himself to his feet and walked quickly out into the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table, his chin resting on his hands. He looked up as Ron pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. Then Ron carefully placed Harry's family ring on the table.

"Giving me this. You know what it means?" At Harry's hesitant nod, Ron pressed the point. "If I was a girl, you giving me this would mean we'd be as good as married."

"I know."

"Bond magic goes on intent, you know. For all you know it won't care that I'm a bloke."

"I _know_, Ron."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life," Harry said. "The more important question is, do _you_ want to do it?"

Ron hesitated. He didn't seriously believe that taking Harry's ring would be anything more than a symbolic gesture, and was surprised to feel a flicker of disappointment at that thought. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. It didn't matter. It would mean what they wanted it to mean, and it would be just as binding as any wedding ring if that's what they both wanted.

Ron gave a decisive nod and said, "Yes."

Harry blinked. "You do?"

"Yes."

Ron reached for the ring, but Harry snatched it up quickly. He took Ron's left hand and said, "We can't have a formal ceremony, but that doesn't matter. The Potter family rings were always given in private, anyway." Then he reverently placed the ring on Ron's third finger, saying, "I love you, Ron, and I will love you for the rest of my life." The ring glowed for a moment as it resized to be a perfect fit on Ron's finger. It was a comforting weight on his hand, and Ron felt something tighten in his chest as a gentle warmth seemed to spread from the ring to ripple through him.

"Soppy git," Ron whispered around the sudden lump in his throat. He blinked against the prickling at the back of his eyes. He wanted to do something, too, but had no idea what. His gaze lit on Harry's hand and he said, "Give me your ring."

Harry shot him a confused look, but slipped his family ring off his middle finger and handed it to Ron. Ron took Harry's left hand and slipped the ring onto Harry's third finger.

"I'm not head of my family, so I don't have a family ring to give you. So we'll have to make do with yours. But I do love you, Harry," Ron said softly, "and I always will." The ring glowed for a moment, and then Ron said with a shaky laugh, "I'm definitely the groom here, mate, so does that mean I get to kiss the bride?"

The sudden surge of power that flooded the room took Ron's breath away. He could almost hear the energy crackling and every hair on his body was suddenly standing on end. There was a look of panic on Harry's face, and Ron felt his stomach plummet as Harry began to glow with an odd blue-white light. Something behind Ron exploded, and some instinct made him immediately reach out and grab Harry, pulling him into a bruising kiss. He closed his eyes and moaned into the kiss as the strange wave of heat flooded through him once again.

The tiny corner of Ron's mind that wasn't gibbering in panic seemed wryly amused at the fact that Ron was getting aroused in the middle of a maelstrom. Ron felt hysterical laughter bubbling up, but choked it back as he held Harry tightly, rocking him amidst the exploding kitchenware and eerie howling wind that whipped around them. He lost track of time as he hung on, kissing Harry desperately, somehow knowing it was the right thing to do, the only way to ground him, and he gave a sigh of relief when the room suddenly fell silent.

After a few moments, Ron cautiously cracked open an eyelid and peered around the kitchen. It looked like a war zone. There were shards of shattered china and glass everywhere. The cupboard doors had scorch marks on them, and even the large white cold cupboard was buckled. It looked like a troll had taken a club to it.

Harry pulled out of Ron's arms, his eyes wide as he looked around.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I almost lost control of it. I could have hurt you. I could have -"

Ron pulled him back into his arms. "It's okay. We're fine, we're fine," he mumbled, feeling oddly numb as he soothed the shaking man in his arms.

"Only because of you," Harry muttered against Ron's neck. "As soon as you held me, I was able to rein it in. Gain control of it again."

"Just have to make sure I keep you within easy reach then, won't I," Ron said. Harry nodded and tightened his hold on Ron. "You'll be fine, mate, I promise. You were just overtired and a bit over-emotional. That's all it was."

Ron felt Harry nod, then pull away again. "Yeah. You're right. Just overtired, that's all. I'll just, um..." He gave Ron a rather shaky smile, then gestured vaguely at the wreckage.

Ron froze, and swallowed hard as a frisson of pure terror shot through him. In the blink of an eye the kitchen had been completely restored to its previous, pristine state.

"Thought I'd better fix it," Harry said. He was looking warily at Ron, who was thoroughly shaken. "It'll be okay, won't it?"

Ron forced a reassuring smile onto his face. "Of course it will. I said so, didn't I?" Ron said firmly.

He pulled Harry to his feet and steered him towards the stairs, not entirely certain which one of them he'd been trying reassure. Despite his comforting words, he really wasn't sure that anything would ever be okay again. He'd forgotten. How had he forgotten how powerful Harry actually was? And how fragile. Ron suddenly felt the full weight of the responsibility he'd taken on. For better or worse, he seemed to be the only thing between Harry and a complete meltdown. They'd have to sort this out, and soon. If this was Harry only almost losing control, Ron didn't want to think about what would happen if Harry really lost it. All he knew for certain was that it wouldn't be good.

-----

Latin translation:

"_Scito hoc super omnia. Amor est vitae essentia_." - Know this above all. Love is the essence of life.

"_Amore donatum. Exhibeatur!_" - Bestowed in love. Let it be shown!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

-----

Harry woke late the next morning. Ron was already up and dressed, and seemed to be his normal, cheerful self as he dragged a protesting Harry out of bed and into the bathroom, declaring that he was starving and prodding Harry to hurry up so that they had enough time to eat before they had to leave.

Ron turned on the shower and shooed Harry into it before bustling off to get breakfast organised.

Harry felt strangely disconnected, like an impartial observer or passenger in his own head as he stood under the running water. He felt like he'd been trampled by a hippogriff. And while he could put some of it down to the rather desperate way Ron had fucked him last night, he knew it was more than that.

He braced his hands against the wall and let his head fall forward under the torrent of warm water. He could still feel it. His muscles ached at the memory of the raw power that had flooded through him. For a fleeting second he had lost control of it. The fierce joy that had overtaken him as Ron had placed the ring on his finger had swept away everything else. Including the tight rein he kept on himself. Had to keep on himself. Because that much power was frighteningly seductive. It whispered to him, sneaking around his defences and offering him everything he wanted. At the slightest hint of weakness: when he was tired, overwrought, distracted, it acted on his every whim. Showing him what he could do. What he could have. What he could be. And it terrified him. No one should have that much power. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how tightly he contained and warded and restrained it, it was winning.

"Harry?"

Harry turned his head. Ron was standing there, watching him, a look of concern on his face.

"You okay, mate?"

Harry nodded wearily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit out of it, that's all. I'll be finished in a sec."

"Just came to tell you that breakfast's ready. Dobby's cooked enough for a Quidditch team, and he's looking a bit tearful. I think he wants a last chance to fuss over you before we head off."

"Right. Won't be long then."

Ron gave Harry a careful look, then nodded. He seemed reluctant to leave Harry alone, but finally headed back down to the kitchen. Harry closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool tiles. Ron was worried about him, and Harry had no idea what to do about that. Well, there was the obvious, of course, but he was rather reluctant to drag Hermione into this mess. It didn't look like he had any choice, though.

He pushed himself away from the wall and reached for the soap. As he began washing himself, he came to a decision. Hermione and Richard wouldn't be back from their honeymoon until after Harry and Ron got to Romania. There was absolutely no way Harry was prepared to interrupt her honeymoon, so he would owl her once he got to the Dragon Reserve. He could arrange to meet up with her in Muggle London, maybe at the house, and ask her to begin researching the problem for him. Apparating there from Romania wasn't a problem. Well, not for him, anyway. And it really seemed like his only option. If anyone could work out what the hell was happening to him, it would be Hermione.

He rinsed off, feeling a little better in himself now that he had finally come up with a plan. He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. His stomach grumbled and he huffed softly. It would be fine. With Hermione on the case, he'd be sorted out in no time.

-----

After a leisurely breakfast and a last minute check that they hadn't forgotten anything, they picked up their backpacks, said their goodbyes to a pair of tearful house-elves and set off for Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley.

The Portkey trip went much as Harry expected, and as it deposited them in the Cairo branch of Gringotts Bank he slumped against the nearest wall and slid down to sit on the floor, his head between his knees.

"Fuck, that was horrible," Harry groaned. Ron spoke quickly to the waiting Goblin, and a moment later handed Harry a glass of water.

"Sip that slowly, mate. You'll be all right in a minute," Ron said.

Harry slowly sipped the water, and the roiling in his stomach settled down as the buzzing in his head faded. After a few minutes he handed the glass back to Ron and shakily stood up, saying, "I really hate long-distance Portkeys."

"Rough trip?"

Bill was standing in the doorway, grinning widely at them. Harry suppressed his instinctive flinch as he saw Bill's face, and firmly pushed away the surge of guilt that always arose within him when he saw those that he hadn't been fast enough or good enough to protect.

"Be grateful you didn't have to do it in several hops like everyone else. Though the long-distance ones can be harsh," Bill said as he strode forward and gave Ron a hug before shaking Harry's hand. "Come on, we can walk from here, it's not far."

As Bill shook his hand, Harry saw a slight shimmer around his face and realised that Bill was wearing a glamour. That Harry had seen straight through. Mentally beginning to compose his letter to Hermione, Harry followed Bill out of the bank and into another world.

Harry took a deep breath and smiled. The air was hot and dry and carried the scents of exotic spices, wood smoke and something else that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Bill chatted as they walked, pointing out landmarks and places of interest as they headed to his house, but Harry couldn't really take it all in. Everything was so different. Even the light seemed different; brighter, more intense, making the colours more vivid. And the noise and crowds were unbelievable.

They finally stopped in front of a rough wooden door set in a high sandstone wall. Bill tapped it with his wand and it swung open, revealing an oasis. At least, that's how it appeared to Harry as he stepped out of the hot, dusty street into a large courtyard garden, complete with lawn, lots of shade trees, and garden beds filled with shrubs and flowers. Even the oppressive heat was dulled somewhat.

"Climate charms," Bill explained. "We spend a great deal of time out here. As you can see, the house is built around three sides of the central courtyard and our front door is the gate in the street wall along the fourth side. This is a fairly typical sort of house for the older parts of Cairo, and the central garden is our living room for most of the year. You two will be staying in the guest room over there," he said as he indicated the right-hand wing of the house. "Come on, you might as well dump your bags and then we can have a nice cold drink."

Harry noticed that there was a wide verandah running the whole length of the house, and that all the rooms seemed to open out onto it. When he asked Bill about it, he explained, "It's to help keep the heat out of the house. It's part of the outdoor living room idea. The verandah is actually our hallway and most of the rooms open onto it, including yours." Bill opened the door and continued, "I'm sure you two won't mind sharing. Bathroom's through there," he indicated a small door near the far-left corner, "and it's got a western-style toilet - Fleur insisted. I'm sure you're relieved to hear that."

Both Ron and Harry nodded, although Harry had no idea what Bill was talking about. Ron muttered softly that he'd explain later.

The bedroom held a wardrobe, a large chest of drawers, a small bookcase and twin beds. They dumped their backpacks on one of the beds, then stepped back out onto the verandah, where Bill was waiting for them.

"Fleur will be putting the kids down for their afternoon nap about now, so I'll give you a guided tour of house a bit later," Bill said as he led them across the garden to where a table and some chairs were set under a large tree. Once they were seated he called out, "Fammy?" and a moment later an oddly dressed house-elf appeared with a soft pop. "Can you bring us some tea, and let Fleur know the boys have arrived?"

The elf nodded and vanished. She returned a moment later with a tray and said, "Mistress will be here soon," before vanishing again. Bill poured four tall glasses of iced tea that appeared to have mint leaves floating in it, and told the boys to help themselves to the nuts and dates.

"You're a very important person, apparently, Harry," Bill said. "We've been told to give you access to any sites you're interested in seeing, and I've been told to take whatever time off I need to make sure you enjoy your stay in Egypt."

Mentally cursing Ragnok, Harry said quickly, "Look, I'm really sorry, Bill -"

"Are you kidding?" Bill interrupted. "I get to play tourist with my little brother and his best friend, and I get paid for it. And as you've got carte blanche, I'll be able to take you to all the really interesting magical digs that are going on, as well as the usual tourist sites. And Cairo Museum's worth a visit, too. Especially the magical section. And then, of course, I can take you to the site my team is currently working on. The Labyrinth. Now, normally you wouldn't be able to visit it because..."

Fleur came out into the garden at that point, and Harry and Ron rose to greet her. She kissed them both on the cheek then sat down next to Bill, smiling as he passed her a glass of iced tea.

"It is lovely to see you both. 'ow was your trip?"

"Not bad," Ron said.

"Bon. And 'ow are things in England? You must tell me what everybody is doing. And the wedding of your friend, Hermione, you must tell me all about it. We hear so little of what is 'appening in Europe, and Bill does not care, so I do not find out!" Bill grinned widely as Fleur pouted at him. "I am so busy with the children, and writing letters takes time I do not 'ave."

"That reminds me," Ron said. "Mum said I had to ask you for some recent photos."

"I will send some photographs to Molly, don't worry. You two are not planning to return to England for some time, non? They will get there sooner if Bill sends them through the bank. So," Fleur settled back in her chair with her drink, "tell me what everybody is doing."

-----

Harry thoroughly enjoyed the traditional Egyptian food that Fleur and Bill served for dinner that evening, but found himself yawning widely during coffee.

"Are we keeping you up?" Bill asked with a grin, and Harry felt his face heat up.

"Sorry, Bill -"

"Only kidding," Bill said. "Long-distance Portkeys really take it out of you, and the heat here doesn't help, either. The climate charms can only do so much. Why don't you have an early night? I've got a busy day planned for you two, tomorrow."

Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking a little frayed around the edges, too.

"Wouldn't mind getting some kip myself, actually," Ron said. "You go ahead, mate. I'll be along in a minute."

"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell you," Bill said quickly. "Don't use the water out of the tap for cleaning your teeth or drinking, okay? It's all right for washing in, but it's not safe for drinking. There's a cold cupboard in the bathroom with bottles of clean water. Fammy will replace your empties every morning."

"Right, thanks, Bill. The healer warned us when we took our travel potions, but I forgot all about it," Harry said. Then with a wave he wished everyone a goodnight and headed gratefully to the guestroom. He felt absolutely shattered.

He stripped off as soon as he entered the bedroom, and jumped under a cool shower. It was still humid, even with the climate charms, and he felt sticky and uncomfortable.

He stepped out of the bathroom and was disappointed to see that Ron was still apparently talking to Bill and Fleur. So he slipped on some loose cotton boxers and lay down on one of the beds to wait for him. He yawned widely once again, and knew he'd fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. And he wanted to speak to Ron. Among other things. A small smile played on his lips as he thought of the gorgeous redhead he was lucky enough to call his own, then he picked up the guidebook that Bill had obviously placed on the bedside table for them to read. Flipping it open, he settled down to read for a bit.

-----

Harry yawned as his eyelids fluttered open, and he stared blankly around the room, momentarily disoriented until he remembered where he was. Bright sunlight tried to pry its way through the firmly closed plantation shutters, and he could see the room clearly in the filtered light. The other bed had obviously been slept in, but there was no sign of Ron.

Harry sat up. The guidebook was on the bedside table, and someone had thrown a light cotton sheet over him at some point. He'd obviously fallen asleep before Ron came to bed. Harry climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom. The shower had been used, but the room was otherwise empty.

Deciding that Ron must have woken early and gone in search of food, Harry showered and dressed, and then stepped out onto the verandah.

"You're finally awake! I was just about to send Ron in to get you. Come and have something to eat."

Harry raised a hand in acknowledgment and made his way over to the table where Bill and Ron were eating breakfast.

"Morning, mate," Ron said. "Have a good rest? You looked worn out last night, so I just left you to sleep in this morning."

Harry sat down next to Ron, nodding his thanks as Bill poured him a glass of orange juice, and said, "Actually I feel loads better today, thanks." He took a sip of his drink, then asked, "Where're Fleur and the kids?"

"She has playgroup on Monday mornings. It's an informal thing with the wives of some of the other curse-breakers. They meet a couple of times a week, sometimes at each other's houses, or they take the kids to the park or swimming, stuff like that. Philippe is four, now, so he loves going to play with his friends. Madeleine is a bit young at two, but she likes to go out and run around somewhere different."

"Oh. That sounds like a good idea," Harry said as buttered a piece of toast. It wasn't something he'd really considered before, but it suddenly occurred to him that Fleur was a long way from her family and friends. "It could get a bit lonely for Fleur, I imagine, being so far from home."

"Yeah," Bill agreed. "It's as much a social thing for the wives, as for the kids. They'd get a bit isolated otherwise. Most of them are a long way from home, here."

Harry nodded as he chewed thoughtfully. Even with the reasonably instantaneous travel methods available to magical beings, it wasn't something you could do every day. Or even every week. Not with young children, at any rate.

"Anyway, eat up, Harry, because you'll need the energy," Bill said with a grin. "We've got a busy day ahead of us."

-----

And so the pattern for their first week in Egypt was set. They'd have an early breakfast, and then Bill would take them sightseeing for the day. They would arrive home footsore and weary, and Fleur and the children would join them for dinner. Then she'd put the children to bed and the adults would spend the evening playing chess, or backgammon, or simply talking. Fleur would soon begin yawning and take herself off to bed, and Harry would find himself almost falling asleep in his chair. Ron or Bill would tell to him go to bed, with Ron saying he'd be along shortly, and Harry would find himself waking alone in their room the following morning, having fallen asleep before Ron came to bed.

The days were full of new and interesting experiences as Bill took care to show them both the magical and Muggle side of Egypt, so it took Harry several days to realise that Ron seemed to be avoiding him. Well, not avoiding him, exactly. Avoiding being alone with him in their bedroom.

At first, Harry thought he was imagining it. Ron seemed to be behaving perfectly normally, laughing and joking with Bill and Harry, and spending time with Fleur and playing with the kids. But no matter how late Harry managed to stay awake, Ron never came to bed until he had fallen asleep. And there never seemed to be an opportunity to ask him why. Either Bill or Fleur were constantly around.

At the end of their first week, as they were relaxing in the garden after yet another excellent dinner, Bill announced that he'd have to go back to work for a couple of days to sort something out. Harry grasped the opportunity with both hands and asked Bill how he'd go about booking a Nile cruise for Ron and himself.

"Funny you should say that, Harry," Bill said with a grin. The reason I had to pop into Gringotts this afternoon was because there was a package from London for you two. From Ragnok. Apparently he's decided to book you a ten-day, all expenses paid, Nile cruise. You leave for Luxor on Wednesday morning."

"What?" Ron looked as suspicious as Harry felt. Goblins did nothing without an ulterior motive.

"What's the catch?" Harry asked.

"No catch, not really. He asks that you and Ron come to the Labyrinth complex tomorrow morning. I was going to take you this week anyway, but..." Bill hesitated, took a deep breath and continued, "He seemed to think that you could help us with a little problem we've been having there. The cruise is your consultancy fee. You know what Goblins are like."

Harry nodded slowly. That made more sense. Goblins never gave anything away without expecting something in return.

"What sort of problem?" Ron asked sharply.

Bill looked a little taken aback. "Nothing dangerous, Ron, I promise you. Actually, it's more of a puzzle than anything else. A bloody frustrating puzzle. You see, we've found a doorway. Well, we assume it's a doorway. And according to the architectural plans we found, it should lead to a large section of the Labyrinth that we haven't been able to access. But we can't open it. We've tried everything. And I mean, everything. The thing is, every time we go anywhere near it, it vanishes. And I don't mean just becomes invisible or something. I mean it's gone. Completely. It's frustrating the hell out of us, if you really want to know. We've been working on it for months, now."

Harry frowned. "I'm not a curse-breaker, Bill. Neither of us have any experience with that sort of thing." He glanced at Ron, who had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Maybe that's why, mate," Ron said slowly. "I mean, there's no shortage of curse-breakers around here, after all. Maybe Ragnok thinks our other skills might be more useful."

Bill nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right, Ron. I've already had a quick word with my team about it and they were little sceptical, to say the least, when they heard Ragnok's orders. I mean, no offence, Harry, but taking out a Dark Lord is one thing, breaking curses for a living is something else entirely."

"I can see that they might be a bit put out," Harry said carefully.

Bill gave a huffing laugh. "That's putting it mildly. But Gibeon, the goblin in charge of the Labyrinth expedition, said he'd spoken to Ragnok personally and he said that if anyone could find a way to open the door, it would be you."

Harry sighed, mentally cursing Ragnok to the lowest depths of hell. He'd spent hours reinforcing his shields, containing and locking down his magic as much as possible. In fact, he'd hardly used magic at all since they'd arrived in Egypt, which was made easier by the fact that they were among Muggles much of the time. The last thing he wanted to do was tempt fate by trying to break curses in an ancient ruin.

Bill slipped his wand out of his pocket and Summoned a folder, which he handed to Harry, saying, "This contains all the details of the cruise and your tickets and stuff. Why don't you and Ron take a look at it while I go and give Fleur a hand with putting the kids to bed."

Bill pushed himself to his feet and headed back into the house, and Harry stared at the folder for a moment as he realised that, for the first time since they got to Egypt, he was alone with Ron. He picked up the folder and stood up.

"I want to talk to you. We'll take the folder into our room."

"But Bill won't be long, and -"

"Now, Ron," Harry said as he turned and headed towards their room. He opened the door and turned around to see Ron slowly walking towards him.

The second Ron closed the door, he said, "Look, Harry -"

"You've been avoiding being alone with me, and I want to know why."

Ron sighed. "I haven't been avoiding you. Not really. It's just... Look, it's Bill. He doesn't change at the full moon, but he has the enhanced senses, that's what Remus said. He'd be able to smell... Well, you know. So I thought it was best that we didn't do anything."

"That's all? Why didn't you just say something?"

"I was going to," Ron protested. "But Bill seemed to be around all the time and if he wasn't, Fleur was, and we'd be talking until late, and you've been tired and going to bed early, so it didn't really come up, and..." He paused, then huffed softly and shook his head. "I'm sorry, you're right, I should have said something."

Harry shook his head. "I thought... Well, actually, I didn't know what to think," he said. Although that wasn't entirely true. He'd simply pushed away the thought that perhaps Ron had changed his mind about them. He knew he was being stupid, but somewhere deep inside still lurked the insecure little boy who lived in a cupboard.

"Daft sod," Ron said softly, a knowing look on his face. "I'm wearing your family ring, Harry. I love you. Just wait until we get on that boat. Just you and me. And I'll show you just how much."

Harry smiled, then dropped a kiss on Ron's cheek. "I know. I'm sorry. I just..." He shrugged somewhat self-consciously.

"I love you," Ron repeated as he gazed into Harry eyes. Then he slowly tilted his head and captured Harry's lips in a gentle kiss.

"I love you, too," Harry said. "And you're right about Bill. I just over-reacted and -"

"No, you didn't," Ron interrupted firmly. "You had every right to wonder what the hell was going on."

A sudden knocking at the door had them springing apart. Ron shot Harry a sheepish grin, then opened the door.

"Fleur's just brought out some coffee," Bill said. "She sent me to find you."

Harry quickly picked up a pile of postcards and a pen, then turned to face Bill. "Thought we'd better write some cards to send home," he said. He handed them to Ron, then picked up the folder that Bill had given him and followed the two brothers back out into the garden.

Ron glanced over his shoulder and gave Harry a cheeky grin, and Harry smiled back. They'd go and look at this Labyrinth tomorrow, and then they'd have ten days together. And ten nights... Dragging his mind back from its vaguely pornographic meanderings, he made his way over to the table and sat down, gratefully accepting a tiny cup of the strong, local coffee from Fleur. Then he flipped open the folder and began to read.

-----

Harry was a bit disappointed when they Apparated into the site. He'd read about the Labyrinth at Hawara, and had expected something more than yet another ancient ruin. His disappointment must have shown on his face, because Bill smiled at him and said, "All the good stuff is underground, Harry. Come on."

Bill led them down a stony path to an entrance in the base of what looked like a small hill.

"This is actually a pyramid, built by Amenehmet III," Bill explained. "The Muggles believe it to be inaccessible now because of the rising water table. They think it's flooded. Of course, that's just an illusion to keep them out."

Harry and Ron followed Bill down the narrow stone corridor that led to the burial chamber. They walked past the large sarcophagus that sat in the middle of the chamber as Bill led them to the back wall. A statue of Anubis, the jackal headed god, stood against the wall. Bill touched it with his wand and the statue slowly slid sideways along the wall, revealing another doorway.

"Through here," Bill said, "are the steps that lead down to the subterranean part of the Labyrinth. Watch your step."

"Wouldn't want to be claustrophobic," Ron muttered as he and Harry peered into the inky darkness.

"The torches will light as soon as we step through the doorway," Bill said cheerfully. "Come on. You've got a real treat ahead."

Bill led the way and sure enough, the moment he walked through the doorway, the torches on the stairway sprang to life. As they descended, the stairway gradually grew brighter, and Harry knew that he was gaping in astonishment as they stepped out into a brightly lit courtyard. Illumination was provided by large globes set on top of marble columns that appeared to be the ancient Egyptian version of streetlights. Giant marble statues lined each side of the courtyard, and passageways seemed to lead off from every side.

Several trestle tables were set up near the entrance, and Harry saw a goblin perched on a high stool at one of them, writing in a large ledger. Two men - presumably a couple of Bill's curse-breaker colleagues - were sitting at another, talking. One of them caught sight of the new arrivals and muttered something to the other. Bill headed over to them, and Harry and Ron trailed behind him.

"Harry, Ron, I'd like to introduce you to some of my team. That's Karim Hamadi and Pete Walker. Guys, this is my brother, Ron, and his mate, Harry."

"I think we could have worked out that that one is your brother, Bill," said the tall, dark haired man. "Karim Hamadi at your service." He shook Ron's hand, and then turned dark, intelligent eyes on Harry. "And you must be Harry Potter."

"Yeah, that's me," Harry said with a grin as he shook Karim's hand.

"Pete Walker," the other man said. He wasn't as tall as Karim, and had long, dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail. "Ragnok seems to think you might be able to shed some light on our little problem. You got any curse-breaking experience?"

"His experience is irrelevant and none of your concern, Walker."

"This is Gibeon, the team overseer," Bill said quickly.

Harry turned to the goblin and gave a short bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Gibeon."

"And you, Harry Potter," the goblin said, his shrewd eyes raking appraisingly over Harry. After a moment he nodded. "Yes, I can see what Ragnok means." Then he turned his attention to Bill and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Time is money, Weasley."

With that, Gibeon returned to his ledger, and the tension that had arisen at Pete's confrontational words dissipated as Karim rolled his eyes and everyone else sniggered. Pete stuck out his hand.

"Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean anything," he said, and Harry shook his hand.

"It's okay. I'd be a bit put out myself in your shoes."

Karim laughed wryly. "I think we're more frustrated than put out, Harry. Here, take a look at this."

He indicated a scale model on the table, and Harry and Ron walked over to examine it.

"It's a model of the Labyrinth complex. You can see the pyramid at one end, which houses the entrance you came in by. As you can see, the Labyrinth is in two halves, mirror images of each other, with a gallery separating them. Now, we're standing here," Karim pointed to a tiny open section on the left hand side of the model, close to the pyramid, "and we've finished our exploration of this side of the gallery. Unfortunately, we haven't found a way into the other half. Well, we have," he amended, "or at least we think we have. We just can't open it. Has Bill told you about our amazing vanishing door?"

"Yeah, he told me and Ron all about it."

Ron nodded. "He said it's definitely not Disillusioned or anything. But I can't see how it can just vanish. I mean it must still be there, right? You just can't see it."

"That's what we reckon," Pete said. "Look, why don't we just show you. We can give you a tour of the highlights of what we've uncovered so far on the way. The gold and artefacts have all been removed, obviously, but the wall paintings and carvings and the statuary are still intact and perfectly preserved."

As they made their way through the maze of corridors, rooms and courtyards, Harry knew that he'd have been totally lost without Bill and his team leading the way. Particularly as there was so much to see that he'd lost track of which direction they were moving in. He was surprised at how beautifully preserved everything was. In fact, the whole Labyrinth was spotlessly clean. The richly painted murals and friezes looked as though they'd been completed only the week before, so rich and vibrant were the colours. The marble floors were so highly polished you could see yourself reflected in them, and the giant statues and light columns that were liberally arranged about the courtyards and rooms looked brand new.

"This is a bit spooky," Ron whispered to Harry as they peered into yet another immaculately maintained room. "I keep expecting to see people wandering around down here."

They both jumped as Bill said, "I know just how you feel, Ron. We felt the same way when we first came here. It took us months to break the curses on the door in the pyramid, and when we came down the stairs and walked into the entrance courtyard, we couldn't believe our eyes. Everything was perfectly preserved. I put it down to the wards. Nothing we've ever come across in Egypt has been warded like this place."

They followed Bill down a wide corridor that led to another courtyard, and Bill continued, "Each of these courtyards is its own mini-complex, with passageways and rooms in a cluster around it. There are nine of these mini-complexes in this half of the Labyrinth, and every single one was warded to the hilt. It took months to break all the curses and wards on them."

"Wouldn't it have been easier once you'd done the first one?" Ron asked.

Bill shook his head. "They used different wards on each one. And they had to be broken in a specific order. You see, we found a map, of sorts, and used that to construct the model you saw. That's what the Labyrinth should look like. And that's what we think it will look like once we've finally broken all the wards and defences. But at the moment there are only blank walls where there should be passageways, according to the map. And we've reached a dead end. The disappearing door is the key to the next part of the Labyrinth. And we're stuck until we open it."

"No pressure, then," Harry muttered. Ron patted his shoulder, and Harry gave him a grateful smile.

They continued on, walking further and further into the maze until finally Bill led them through a doorway at the end of a long corridor and said, "Here we are. This is the antechamber." He waved a hand, indicating an opening in the wall to the left of the doorway and continued, "And our amazing vanishing door is through there."

Harry looked around as he stepped into the chamber. There was a table set against the far wall, piled high with scrolls and random pieces of parchment. The working notes of Bill's team, Harry assumed. The right hand and far walls of the room were as richly decorated as he'd come to expect, but the wall to the left was very different. It seemed to be made out of pure white marble, with a wide opening set in the middle. Harry moved closer and peered through the opening. He could just make out a highly ornate golden door at the far end of a dimly lit passageway.

"There it is," Bill said. "Now watch what happens."

They all gathered at the entrance to the passageway as Bill walked forward. He'd only taken five or six steps when he vanished. Harry blinked and glanced at Ron, who shrugged and said, "Just like they said. The door's gone. What do you reckon, mate?"

At that moment, Bill reappeared in the passageway, walking back towards the small group.

"See what I mean?" Bill said as he rejoined the group.

"That's what everyone saw? Bill walking towards the door and the door vanishing? Could you still see Bill?"

Harry's question was greeted with an array of incredulous looks. Except for Ron, who gave Harry an encouraging smile.

"Of course we could still see him!" Pete said.

"You didn't see the same as the rest of us, did you, mate?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry slowly shook his head. "Can you do that again, Bill? But slowly, this time?"

Bill frowned. "What's going on, Harry?"

"I'll tell you in a minute."

Bill shrugged, and as he walked down the passageway once again, Harry placed a hand against the wall and concentrated.

He could feel the wards on the Labyrinth. They were ancient; almost overwhelming they were so powerful. He drew his focus in, concentrating on just the wards in the passageway as he watched Bill vanish, and then reappear once more.

"That's weird," Harry muttered. He could feel the strands of magic woven into the wall he was touching, and it was the oddest combination he'd ever come across. It would definitely explain why he saw something that the others did not, however.

"What's weird, mate?" Ron asked as Bill rejoined them.

"The door doesn't disappear, Bill. You do," Harry said finally.

All three curse-breakers began speaking at once, protesting loudly, until a sharp whistle from Ron shocked them all into silence.

Ron glared at them as he said, "If Harry says you disappeared, Bill, then you bloody well disappeared. Ragnok asked for his help for a reason, okay?"

"Sorry, sorry. You're right, Ron," Bill said. "We should at least hear Harry out." He turned his attention to Harry and said, "Okay, Harry. Tell me exactly what you saw."

"Well, I saw you take about half a dozen steps or so, and then there was a sort of flickering and you vanished." At the openly sceptical expressions that greeted this statement, Harry continued, "Look, let me try something."

Harry cautiously edged towards the golden door, running his hand along the wall as he went. He stopped just before he triggered the wards and said, "This is it, here. Anyone who steps past this point sets it off. Hang on a minute." And with that, Harry stepped forward, triggering the spell combination.

There was a slight mental pressure as a Confundus Charm tried to act on him just before he felt the telltale tug of a Portkey activating. He turned around and could clearly see a shimmering field, like a translucent wall, and through it he could see Ron, Bill and the others standing at the end of the passageway, watching him. He gave them a wave and then placed his hand against the wall once more.

Harry immediately felt the difference. He was no longer in the Labyrinth. In fact, he could feel nothing but solid rock all around him. He couldn't be certain, but he'd have bet his vault that he was in a chamber in the heart of a mountain, somewhere. He turned back to the shimmering wall and stepped through it once more.

"When you trigger the charm, it Confunds you so that you don't notice that a Portkey has activated. Then it sets up a scrying field across the passageway that's keyed to your destination. All this happens almost simultaneously. The Portkey takes you out of the Labyrinth to a chamber somewhere, probably inside a hill or mountain. No wonder you've had no luck trying to find the door or break through the wall. There's nothing but solid rock surrounding you, once you've been Portkeyed out of the passageway."

"Brilliant. Why didn't we think of that?" Pete said with a look of disgust on his face. "Oh, right. Because it's impossible."

"Shut up, Pete," Bill said sharply. He gave Harry an apologetic smile. "He's right, though. The ancient Egyptians took security very, very seriously. Permanent ward matrices that block all forms of magical travel are an integral part of the foundations of all their tomb and temple complexes. Including the Labyrinth. It's just not possible, Harry."

"Hang on a minute, Bill," Ron said. "How do you know it's not possible? Why couldn't there be something different going on here? I mean, have you ever come across anything like this disappearing door before? Any of you?"

"You've got no idea what you're talking about," Pete muttered.

He turned to Karim, presumably for support, but the tall Egyptian seemed to be lost in thought. After a moment he said, "What he says makes sense. We've been working on this for months, now, and had no success whatsoever. And we are one of the most experienced curse-breaking teams in Egypt. Everything we've come across so far, at least one of us has seen it before, am I right?" Both Pete and Bill nodded their agreement, and Karim continued, "Therefore we must be looking at something new, here. Something that has never been done before. Think about it. You can't dismantle a ward or break a curse if you do not even know it is there. You can't break through a door if you never reach it. And it would make sense that they'd use something like that to protect this door if it really does lead to the heart of the Labyrinth, as we suspect it does."

"You could be onto something, there," Bill said slowly. His brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be seriously considering Karim's words. "That could work. They could have incorporated the Portkey ward into the matrix as they constructed this section, and then masked it. Our standard scans would never have detected it..." Bill fell silent for a moment as he stared off into the distance. "If this ward really exists, then the trigger will be anchored to a keystone in the wall, or perhaps the floor." He turned his attention back to Harry. "As you seem to be the only one of us who can detect it, do you think you could place a mark on the floor to indicate the trigger point?"

Bill handed him a stick of chalk, and Harry edged forward once more. He crouched down and drew a line on the floor just in front of where he could feel the activation point to be. The three curse-breakers immediately stepped up behind him and began examining the floor and walls, and Harry stepped away and walked back to the end of the passageway to where Ron was standing, leaning against the wall, watching the activity.

"Can they do it?" Ron asked quietly. At Harry's nod, he inclined his head, indicating that they should move away from the curse-breakers, and Harry followed him out of the passageway and back into the antechamber.

"They should be able to do it themselves, now that they know what they're looking for," Harry said softly. "It'll take a lot of power to neutralise that Portkey ward; it's quite tricky, but the three of them should be able to manage, if they're careful."

"They're experienced curse-breakers," Ron said. "Bill says they're always careful. The ones that aren't don't live long enough to become experienced. You did the right thing."

Harry shot Ron a grateful smile. He'd taken enough of a risk as it was by identifying the ward mechanism. Dismantling it on his own would have given far too much away.

"Anyway, we should go back," Ron said. "Bill will only worry if he thinks we've wandered off and got lost."

They walked back into the passageway just in time to hear Pete say, "I don't fucking believe it. It's here. He was right!"

Bill squatted down next to Pete and began moving his wand in a complex pattern. After several minutes, he said, "The charms are all there, just like Harry said. They're tied into the Portkey ward. We'll have to disable or block that one first, and then we should be able to bring the others down in a controlled cascade."

Ron glanced quickly at Harry, who gave him a tiny nod. Bill looked up and frowned as he caught sight of them.

"Ron! And Harry. Sorry, got wrapped up in this and forgot about you two. Look, this can be dangerous, so you'd better stand well back. In fact, you should probably go back to the antechamber and watch from there, okay?"

"Just be careful, Bill," Ron said.

Bill shot them a grin and waved them off.

They moved back out of the passageway and stood watching the curse-breakers. Harry thought it looked a little like a well-choreographed dance. They all seemed to know their place, and their wands moved in intricate patterns as they muttered quietly among themselves.

"How are they doing?" Ron asked softly after what felt like hours to Harry, but was probably only half an hour or so.

Harry placed his hand on the wall, closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment.

"They're still working on the Portkey ward. There's a massive power source somewhere in the heart of this place that's powering it. But they're making definite headway."

"Fair enough. Tell you what, though. I'd have brought something to eat and a chess set if I'd known it'd end up taking this long."

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, me too. I..." His voice trailed off and he frowned. Something didn't feel right. "Bill?" he called.

"What is it Harry? We're a bit busy, here."

Bill sounded distracted and his wand never stopped moving. Harry's hand was still against the wall, and he could definitely feel that something was wrong. The ward seemed to be changing... Harry began moving towards the passageway.

"Bill! Stop. Whatever you're doing, stop, now."

"What? We can't just stop in the middle of... Oh, fuck!"

There was a blinding flash, and Harry threw out his arms. A moment later the three men came hurtling out of the passageway as Harry Summoned them. Pete and Karim looked somewhat dazed, but otherwise unharmed. Bill, though, had taken the brunt of the ward attack. His wand hand, arm and face were burnt and blistered, and he was unconscious.

"Bill!" Ron shouted as he ran to his brother. Harry dropped to his knees next to Bill as Ron pulled out his wand and then hesitated. He looked at Harry, shock clear on his face, and said, "I'm not sure what to do, Harry."

"Go and see to the others. I'll take care of him. I'll fix it, Ron. I promise."

Ron stared intently at Harry, then gave a jerky nod and pushed himself to his feet. Harry turned his attention back to Bill.

"God, I'm so sorry. I should have taken care of the wards myself," he mumbled as he stared at Bill. The crushing sense of guilt and failure that suddenly overwhelmed him took his breath away. This was Ron's brother, and Harry had let him down yet again. He would fix this. He would make it right.

Heat flashed through him as his vision greyed out. There was a buzzing in his head, and he gradually became aware of arms holding him tightly as Ron's voice sounded in his ear. Harry couldn't understand what he was saying, but there was a desperate note to the words that acted like a bucket of iced water, immediately clearing his head. Harry shuddered as Ron's words began to make sense.

"...bring the place down on our fucking heads. Harry! Fucking rein it in, mate. Please, Harry, please."

Harry blinked, then coughed harshly as he breathed in a lungful of dusty air. Ron held him and rubbed his back soothingly as Harry came fully back to himself.

"Thank fuck for that," Ron said as he looked searchingly at Harry. "You were losing it again, mate."

Harry looked around the chamber and winced. There were wide cracks in the walls, and Pete and Karim were lying on the floor, covered in a thin layer of plaster dust and apparently unconscious.

"What happened?" Harry asked weakly.

"You were kneeling by Bill and all of a sudden there was a flash of light and a wave of energy. It seemed to just pass right through me, but it knocked Pete and Karim out cold and then the bloody walls started coming apart."

"It was Bill," Harry said softly. "I saw him all burnt and bloody and I was suddenly back at Hogwarts and it was all my fault. Dumbledore was dead and Greyback was... I just wanted him to be all right. I... Oh, fuck. Bill."

Harry tore himself out of Ron's arms and turned back to Bill. Unlike the rest of the chamber, Bill seemed untouched by the plaster dust. Harry's eyes widened as he hurriedly scanned Bill. He was fine. There wasn't a mark on him. Not a single mark.

"Ron? Bill's completely healed," Harry said slowly.

"Yeah, I saw him, mate. Figured that's what the burst of magic was all about."

"What the fuck are we going to do, Ron? I mean, look at this place. And how am I going to explain what happened to Bill?"

A flash of alarm crossed Ron's face as he quickly wrapped his arms around Harry again and said, "Bloody hell, just calm down, will you? The last thing we need is you getting all worked up again."

Harry could feel his magic surging and spiking as it fought his tenuous control. But as Ron's hand rubbed firm circles on his back, Harry felt like a warm, comfortable blanket had settled over him, calming and soothing the surging power within him.

"We need to get you out of here," Ron muttered.

Harry shook his head. "No. It's okay. I'm okay."

Ron leant back, a serious expression on his face as he gave Harry a searching look.

"Yeah, maybe you are," Ron said after a moment. "Which is probably just as well." He looked around the antechamber, his gaze lingering on the unconscious curse-breakers, then said, "What went wrong in there?"

"I'm not sure. Bill and the others had almost finished constructing the block on the Portkey ward, when I felt something odd." Harry paused for a moment as he tried to remember the fleeting impressions he'd picked up just before everything had gone wrong. "Blocking the Portkey ward tripped some sort of defence mechanism, I think. There was a sudden, massive influx of power, and it felt as if the ward was changing or..." He shook his head. "I can't describe it. But it felt dangerous. As soon as I realised what was happening, I pulled them out of there. I wasn't quick enough, though, and Bill -"

"Is alive," Ron interrupted firmly. "As are the other two. None of this is your fault, all right? They're the curse-breakers. They're the ones who made a complete hippogriff's breakfast out of this. And they're bloody lucky you were there to save their ungrateful arses." Ron's arms tightened around Harry for a moment, then he continued, "So, do you know what state the wards are in now? I mean, are they still dangerous?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "Just give me a minute."

He pushed himself to his feet, placed a hand against the wall and closed his eyes. He tried to feel for the wards in the passageway, but could only find a confused jumble of spell and curse fragments that he had apparently put in stasis. As he began sorting through them, he realised that he would have to remove the whole lot. Because he'd apparently managed to put a stasis charm on a massive, uncontrolled cascade failure that would probably kill anyone unlucky enough to be anywhere near it when the charm wore off. The decision made, it was the work of a moment to remove them.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled reassuringly at Ron, who was standing next to him looking rather worried.

"It's fine, mate. There was nothing left but some really nasty curse fragments, so I've cleaned them up."

"Great! That's one less thing to worry about. Okay, we've got some covering up to do, right?" Ron said. At Harry's nod, he continued, "I've given it some thought, and I've come up with a plan. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to put Bill and his mates back in the passageway. But first, you're going make sure that all they remember is a small, controlled cascade failure that they couldn't quite dampen in time. Then you're going to fix all this," he waved a hand, indicating the wreckage and cracked walls, "and then we'll wake them up. They'll check the wards and find they're down, and -"

"Not down," Harry said, interrupting Ron mid-plot. "Gone. Some of what was left was still lethal, so I thought it was safer just to get rid of the lot."

Ron pursed his lips. After a moment he shrugged and said, "I don't think anybody will worry about that too much. I mean, they can open the door now and... They can open the door now, right?"

"Simple unlocking charm should do it."

"Well then," Ron said with a grin. "They're not going to care about the odd missing ward once they know they can get that door open now, are they?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry said slowly. "But that's not the only problem, Ron. What about Bill?"

Ron frowned. "What about him? He's fine. You fixed him right up. There's not a mark on him."

"Exactly. And there should be."

Ron stared blankly at Harry for a moment, then his eyes suddenly widened as he said, "But that's... I mean, he wears a glamour and... Oh, shit. You mean they're gone, too? The scars he got from Greyback?"

Harry nodded.

"Fucking hell," Ron muttered. "That's... Look, don't get me wrong, Harry. That's absolutely brilliant news. I can't believe you've managed to do that. Bill will be over the moon. But you really need to work on your timing, mate."

Harry gave a snort of laughter. "I didn't do it on purpose, Ron. All I wanted to do was..." His voice died away as a sudden thought occurred to him. "What if I could do this again? For Remus, I mean, and -"

"Harry," Ron interrupted. He reached out and took Harry's hand. "Look, mate. I know that you want to help Remus and everyone else, but don't forget; Bill wasn't a werewolf. He didn't change or anything. Now, I'm not saying that you couldn't cure them all. But..." Ron shrugged, a grimace on his face, and Harry gave a resigned sigh.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not going to get my hopes up, Ron. But it would have to be worth a try, right?"

"Definitely. But not right this second, eh? We've got rather a lot on our plate at the moment," Ron said dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes, then leant against the wall and watched as Ron stared off into the distance, muttering softly under his breath.

After a minute or two Ron turned his attention back to Harry and said, "All right, how about this. We do nothing at all about Bill and act as surprised as everybody else. Cascade failures are dodgy things. Anything could happen. Usually they're pretty disastrous, but who's to say that just this once something good couldn't come out of one. After all, they've got no way of knowing what actually did happen unless we tell them. It'll be a right mystery, obviously, but..." He turned to look at Pete and Karim, lying unconscious on the floor, and continued, "I hesitate to suggest this, mate, but can you check them over, too?"

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, and then he smiled as he realised what Ron was getting at. If all three curse-breakers discovered that all their scars or injuries, even old ones, were gone, it would definitely look like a side effect of the cascade failure. And as Harry had cleared up the spell remnants, there would be no evidence to the contrary.

"That's brilliant!" Harry said.

"I'll stay right next to you while you do it," Ron assured him. "Just in case things get out of hand. Not saying they will, of course. But...you might need me."

"I always need you," Harry said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ron's expression softened, and he stepped closer to Harry and slipped his arms around him. "You'll never have to find out," he whispered against Harry's lips before softly kissing him. Then he took a step back and grinned somewhat self-consciously as he said, "Better get on with it, then."

-----

Ron had eaten far too much. He leant back in his chair and sighed with relief as he surreptitiously slipped open the top button on his trousers. He caught Harry's eye, and he winked.

"A toast," Bill said as he pushed himself somewhat unsteadily to his feet and raised his glass.

"Not another one," Ron muttered. The impromptu celebration of the breaking of the curses on the golden door had been going on for several hours, now, and everyone and everything even vaguely associated with the Labyrinth had been toasted copious times.

"To... To..." Bill frowned, looking suddenly confused.

"Siddown, you drunken git," Pete shouted, and Karim sniggered as he elbowed Ron roughly.

"Your... Brother. Your brother. Can't hold his...you know...whatsit...drink." He nodded at Ron, and then sniggered again.

"Unlike you," Ron said dryly, rubbing his side. He'd definitely have a bruise there come morning.

"But...but y'know what? 's my best mate." Karim peered owlishly at Ron as he wagged his finger as though to drive the point home. "I love him."

"Me, too," Pete announced with a sloppy grin. "I love everybody," he added, waving his hands in an expansive gesture and sloshing Firewhisky all over the table.

"Yes, yes, everybody loves everybody else. You have said so many times."

Ron looked up to see Fleur standing behind Bill, an indulgent smile on her face. She shook her head fondly.

"It is getting rather late, boys, and your wives will be wondering where you are. You should go home and share the wonderful news with them."

"I love my wife," Karim said solemnly.

"And I'm sure she will be very relieved to 'ear it," Fleur said. "Ron, if you two can assist me for a moment?"

Ron and Harry hoisted Karim out of his chair and steered him towards the Floo. They saw him safely off home, then went back for Pete. Fleur had manhandled Bill to his feet by this point.

"I will put Bill to bed, and bring back coffee. You will wait for me."

There was something in Fleur's expression that told Ron it wasn't a suggestion, so he nodded quickly.

Several minutes later, Fleur drifted back out into the garden, a tray of coffee floating in front of her.

"It is good news, is it not?" Fleur said as she poured out tiny cups of strong coffee.

"Oh, yeah. They're all thrilled to bits. I was a bit surprised that they didn't open the door once they finally could, though," Ron said. "I mean, they've been trying to get to it for months. And now they can. And they don't open it."

Fleur looked amused as she said, "It does not seem to make sense, I agree. But I'm sure Bill has explained their procedures to you. They will examine the door, the wall around the door, the floor in front of it and the ceiling above it for hours on end before they will even touch it, let alone attempt to open it."

"I know they have to be careful in their line of work, but it seems overly cautious, if you ask me," Harry said.

Fleur gave an elegant shrug. "Their caution has kept them alive, so I think we cannot criticise it. And they will spend an enjoyable day tomorrow playing with their new door."

Ron chuckled as he shook his head. Fleur sounded as though she was talking about one of her children with a new toy.

"So, you will go with Bill to the maze again tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head. "I saw enough of it today," he said.

"And you, Ron?" Fleur asked.

"No, I don't think so. We'd only get in the way."

"I doubt that," Fleur said. "After all, they needed you today, did they not?"

Ron opened his mouth to disagree, then hesitated. Harry was the one who'd found the wards, but Ron was the one who'd stopped Harry bringing the whole place down on top of them. So he nodded instead. He had been needed.

"I do not blame you, however," Fleur continued. "Bill has taken me to see this maze that he loves so much. It is very beautiful. But to see one of the courtyards and its surrounding rooms is to see all of them, I think." She took a sip of her coffee, then said, "Bill would not agree, of course. For him, breaking the curse on that door is the best thing that has happened today. But for me, it was the healing of Bill's curse scars."

"Yeah," Ron said with a smile. "He won't have to wear that glamour ever again."

"Pfft, that does not matter. Bill was always handsome to me. It was the other things. The darkness that was in the scars, that we are glad to be rid of. So tell me. How exactly did it 'appen?"

"Well," Harry said slowly. "Bill told you about the cascade failure."

"Oui," Fleur agreed, nodding her head. "That is what everyone will be told. But anyone who really understands these things will find that very difficult to believe. In the absence of any other explanation, they will have to accept it, of course. Bill said that you two revived them. So if there had been anything else to see, you would have seen it, n'est pas?"

Ron glanced quickly at Harry, who gave a tiny shake of his head.

"That's the only explanation we can give you," Ron said, carefully choosing his words.

"So that is how it is," Fleur said softly. "Bien. You will keep your secrets; after all, it does not matter. Bill is well again, and that is the important thing for me. And for him, well, the door is finally open in that silly underground maze, so he is 'appy." She picked up the tiny coffee cup and took a sip.

Fleur's eyes never left Harry, and Ron could see him grow more and more uncomfortable until he suddenly stood up, muttered something about being tired, and fled to their room.

"You know that it could only have been Harry, of course," Fleur said softly.

Ron's eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

Fleur shook her head, a rueful smile on her face as she said, "I am not making the wild stabs in the dark, you understand. I know what I am talking about. Veela are not human, Ron. Wizards know this, I think, but forget what that means. The goblins know. They can feel it. And so can I. He holds it within him. Binds his power so tightly but still it is obvious to us. The children, they asked me why Uncle Harry sparkles. I told them it was a secret."

Ron was shaken. "Look, Fleur. Bill -"

"Will not find out from me," Fleur interrupted. "My Bill is whole and healthy again, and for that I owe Harry a debt. I will keep his secret." She paused for a moment, then added, "And yours. Because Harry is not the only one who sparkles."

She rose to her feet, gently pressed a kiss to Ron's cheek and whispered, "Love is always a wonderful thing, Ron, wherever it is found. And he needs you, I think. Bon nuit."

Ron knew he was gaping as he stared at Fleur's retreating back. He shook his head, picked up his cup and drained it in one swallow. Then, deciding he needed something a little stronger, he picked up the Firewhisky bottle and poured himself a large drink.

His mind was reeling. Fleur knew. About Harry, and about them being together. And she hadn't said a word or acted any differently at all towards them. Had even promised to keep their secret from Bill. He shook his head again. He had obviously underestimated his sister-in-law.

Ron couldn't quite suppress the vague uneasiness he felt, however, at the thought that someone else in his family knew about them. Not that Fleur, or Percy for that matter, would deliberately do anything to give them away. He knew that. But all it took was one slip. And while he couldn't care less what the average wizard in the street thought of him and Harry, when it came to his mum and dad, his own family, well, that was a completely different cauldron of newts. He loved them, and he didn't think he could cope if they turned on him. And they would, if they found out, of that Ron had no doubt whatsoever.

"Just have to make sure they don't find out then, won't I," Ron muttered, firmly putting aside that train of thought. He took a swig of his whisky. No use borrowing trouble, as his old gran used to say. And if the worst came to the worst, well, it wasn't as if Harry couldn't take care of it for him. Ron found it oddly comforting, if slightly disturbing, to know that Harry would cheerfully Obliviate his entire family simply to make him happy.

Ron knew that he should be rather more worried than he actually was about how powerful Harry was. And if it had been anyone other than Harry, he would be. But Harry was... Ron huffed softly and took a sip of his whisky. Harry wasn't perfect by any means. But if anyone had to have that much power, Ron couldn't think of anyone better. There was something inherently good about him. What was it Fleur had said? Something about Harry sparkling? And he did. Sparkle, that is. In Ron's opinion, anyway.

Which reminded Ron of what else Fleur had said - something about Harry not being the only one who sparkled. Ron wished he'd had his wits about him and asked her what she'd meant by that. Because he was beginning to suspect that there was more to his seeming ability to calm Harry's magical outbursts than he'd first thought. When Harry had lost control in the Labyrinth, it had knocked Karim and Pete out cold and almost brought the place down on their heads. Yet Ron had remained completely untouched. He slowly shook his head as he stared thoughtfully into his glass. There was no point worrying about it. He'd talk to Harry once they had a bit of privacy, and tell him that it was time to get Hermione involved. If anybody could work out what was going on, it would be her. They could send her an owl when they got to Romania. She'd be back from her honeymoon by then.

Feeling happier now that he'd come up with a plan, Ron leant back in his chair and took a sip of his whisky. He tilted his head back and stared at the stars twinkling brightly in the inky sky above him. It was late; probably after midnight, but the night was still warm. A faint breeze played across the garden, carrying with it the scents of exotic blooms and fragrant spices, and Ron breathed deeply and gave a contented sigh. He had a ten-day cruise on the Nile with Harry to look forward to. With no older brothers around to... Ron blinked, then chuckled softly. With all the drama and plotting and covering up they'd had to do in that bloody maze, he'd forgotten what Harry had actually done. His brother was cured, which meant that he was just plain old Bill again. No enhanced senses. Which meant that Ron didn't have to worry about telltale scents in the wrong places. Which meant...

Which meant that he was an idiot for sitting on his own, staring at the stars when he could be in their room, in Harry's bed, making sure they both saw them. Repeatedly. Ron took a last gulp of his whisky, dumped the glass on the table and stood up. For the first time since they got to Egypt, he was really looking forward to going to bed.

-----


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

-----

Travelling by international Portkey to the Bucharest branch of Gringotts wasn't as bad as the trip to Cairo had been, for which Harry was truly grateful. Particularly as the first thing the goblin who greeted them did was hand them a broken quill and inform them that it was yet another Portkey. With a sigh of resignation Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt the tug of activation once more.

"Harry? You can open your eyes, mate. We're here. Wherever here is."

Fervently wishing that he had refused Bill's offer of lunch before they'd left Cairo, Harry swallowed hard against a wave of nausea and opened his eyes. They appeared to be in some sort of storeroom. A thin, watery light trickled through the dirty window set high in the stone wall behind them. Large crates and barrels of all sizes were stacked somewhat precariously around them, and he could just make out a heavy wooden door in the far wall.

"You okay? You're looking a bit pale," Ron said. "Look, sit down here for a minute."

Ron put an arm around Harry and steered him towards one of the smaller barrels. Harry sat down heavily and took several slow, deep breaths. He felt Ron's hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, and as he concentrated on the sensation he felt his rebellious stomach begin to settle.

"Do you want to stay here while I go and see if I can find Charlie?"

"No, I think I'll be okay, now," Harry said as he slowly got to his feet.

Ron didn't look convinced, but after a moment he shrugged and said, "If you say so. Come on, then."

Ron opened the door, and Harry followed him out into an even gloomier room. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the low light. They were in an old inn, by the looks of it. Very old. The walls and floor were stone, with heavy beams set in the low ceiling that Ron had to duck to avoid. Roughly hewn benches and tables were scattered about the long room. There was a crude, wooden counter that served as a bar to the right, and a large fireplace seemed to take up almost the whole of the far wall. A roaring fire was burning in the hearth, but it seemed unable to do more than barely take the chill off the room.

Harry shivered despite the heavy travelling robes he wore. Bill had insisted they put them on before they left Cairo, and Harry had felt rather stupid, sweltering in the heavy robes as he and Ron waited for the Portkey to activate. He was rather glad of them, now.

"There he is. Oy, Charlie!" Ron called out as he strode towards the fireplace.

Charlie's red hair stood out like a beacon in the gloom. He was sitting on a wooden bench near the fireplace, and at Ron's approach he rose to his feet, a smile on his face.

"Ron!" Charlie said as slapped his brother on the back. Then he reached out and clasped Harry's hand, shaking it vigorously as he continued, "And Harry. You're looking well. Both of you. Egypt obviously agreed with you."

"Well, it was definitely warmer than this place," Ron said as he pulled his robes tighter about himself. "So where are we? This doesn't look like the Reserve."

"No. We're in Crastu. It's a small village right on the edge of the Reserve wards, and we've got a standing arrangement with the innkeeper to use his Floo. You can't use Portkeys or Apparate directly into the Reserve, you see. This is as close as you can get."

"We have to Floo in?" Harry asked in dismay. His stomach had only just settled from the Portkeys and the thought of spinning wildly through the Floo was less than appealing.

"Well, you can walk. Or fly, I suppose. People do, sometimes. I wouldn't advise it, though. It's a bit...hazardous."

Harry nodded in resignation. He'd read about the dangers of wandering about in the Carpathian Mountains. If you managed to avoid the dragons, there were still wolves, bears, and vampires to contend with.

The Floo trip to the administration centre of the Romanian Dragon Research Centre and Reserve was mercifully short. Harry stepped out of the way quickly so Ron didn't run into him, and brushed the soot off his travelling robes as Charlie went to find the Director. A minute or so later he returned, followed by a tall, dark-haired woman. She was wearing a plain black work robe over her dragonhide trousers and white shirt, and the heavy boots of a dragon handler.

"Ron, Harry, this is Ecaterina Nicolae, our Director."

"Welcome," she said as she approached them. She grabbed Ron's shoulders and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "So you are Ron, brother of Sorin-Charlie." She released Ron and then grabbed Harry. "And you must be Harry Potter, adopted brother of our Sorin. As he has told you, I am Katya Nicolae, Director of this Reserve. So, you will be tired from your journey. Go and settle in, and then we must speak. Bring them to my casa for dinner tomorrow, Sorin," she said to Charlie. She gave Harry and Ron a brilliant smile and then swept out.

"Sorin?" Ron asked as they headed out of the administration building.

"Sorin means red-haired. There was already a handler named Charlie when I first got here, so everyone called me Sorin-Charlie to tell us apart," Charlie said with a smile. "It stuck."

Charlie pointed out several buildings as they walked through the small settlement. There was a mess hall that doubled as social centre and meeting hall, a small medical centre that housed the healer and a potions maker, a large barn that housed all the supplies for the small community, and several single-storey wooden cabins dotted about randomly. Charlie explained that the human settlement was a couple of miles from the dragons and their associated buildings. Harry thought this was probably very sensible, as every structure he had seen so far was built of wood. When he voiced this thought, Charlie burst out laughing.

"We've got the strongest fire-retardant charms in existence on every building on the Reserve. There wouldn't be a stick standing otherwise, believe me," Charlie said as he stopped in front of one of the log cabins. "Well, here we are. Home sweet home," he added as he flung open the door to the cabin and ushered them in.

The front door opened onto a small, slate-floored hallway. Sturdy pegs on the wall held dragonhide robes and heavy cloaks, and a tangle of leather straps and several pairs of boots were piled up in one corner. There was only one door leading off the hallway, and Charlie pushed it open and said, "Come on in. Make yourselves at home."

Harry and Ron followed Charlie into the living room. There were several very comfortable-looking armchairs arranged in front of an enormous stone fireplace, which seemed to dominate the room. The rest of the furnishings were simple and functional. A tall bookcase, a coffee table, a sideboard and a dining table and chairs, all seemingly made in the same heavy, dark wood.

"The kitchen's down the end," Charlie said, pointing to a door set in the far wall of the cabin. "And over there," Charlie gestured towards three doors set in the right-hand wall of the living room, "are the other rooms. Bathroom's that door down the end. This one," he flung open the middle door, "is your room. Hope you don't mind sharing. The other room's mine. You timed your visit well. Anton, my bunk mate, had to go home to sort out some family business, and he won't be back for another month or so." Charlie peered into the small bedroom, seeming to notice the large double bed that took up almost the whole room for the first time. "You can probably transfigure that into a couple of singles if you want. Might be a bit cramped though," he said doubtfully.

"We'll manage," Harry said.

Charlie shrugged. "As long as you don't mind. I know you were promised your own cabin, but we're full to the gills at the moment. Had a couple of new handlers start last week."

"Honestly, we really don't mind," Ron said.

"Great! How about you unpack your stuff and I'll put the kettle on," Charlie said as he slapped Ron on the back and then headed towards the kitchen. Harry followed Ron into the small bedroom and dumped his backpack on the bed.

"At least we've got a double bed," Ron said softly as he dropped his backpack next to Harry's. "I was really looking forward to us having our own cabin, though."

Harry looked up from his unpacking and said in a low voice, "Nothing we can do about it, mate. But it won't be so bad. Don't forget, Charlie doesn't have any enhanced senses we have to worry about. And I'm sure we can manage a Silencing and Locking Charm between us."

"I know that. I meant..." Ron shrugged and turned to his unpacking. "Never mind."

Harry put a hand on Ron's arm, and as Ron turned towards him, Harry said, "I do know what you mean, Ron. I miss having a bit of privacy, too."

"Yeah. Being on holiday's nice, but it makes you appreciate what you've got at home, doesn't it?"

Harry moved closer to Ron and said, "We can always go home a bit earlier, if you really want to?"

Ron seemed to consider the offer for a moment, but finally said, "Not especially. I've been looking forward to spending some time with Charlie, and seeing the dragons. What about you? Do you want to go home early?"

Harry shook his head. "We're only here for a few weeks. And honestly, if we get that desperate for a bit of privacy, I can always Apparate us home for a few hours."

Ron looked taken aback. "You can Apparate us both that far?" At Harry's nod, he continued, "Why have we been taking bloody Portkeys everywhere, then?"

"Because it was expected. Because it would have looked really suspicious if we hadn't," Harry said softly.

"Oh, right," Ron said slowly. He grinned sheepishly. "Forgot. Sorry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's get this unpacking finished. I'm dying for a cuppa."

It didn't take them long to unpack, and they returned to the living room to find Charlie sitting at the table, sipping at a mug of tea as he read the paper.

"Mmm, something smells good," Ron said as he dragged out a chair and sat down at the table. Harry took the seat next to him, and nodded his thanks as Charlie passed him a mug of tea.

"That'll be the casserole I put on for dinner. It should be ready soon. We eat pretty early, here; the dragons are up at the crack of dawn, and so are we. Usually we go to the mess hall, but I thought you'd prefer to eat at home tonight and get settled in. At least Katya gave you a reprieve until tomorrow."

"A reprieve from what?" Harry asked.

"Well, she wants to ask you something. A favour. But I said I'd sound you out first because it might be better coming from me. I mean, I don't want you to feel pressured or anything. This is your holiday, after all, and -"

"Bloody hell, Charlie, just spit it out, will you?" Ron said as he rolled his eyes.

"She wants to host an official function promoting the work of the Reserve, combined with a bit of fundraising on the side. As two celebrities will be living on the Reserve for a while, she thought it would be a good way to encourage attendance, raise the profile a bit. But don't feel you have to."

Harry suppressed a sigh. The last thing he felt like doing was volunteering to be the star attraction at the sort of event he normally avoided like the plague. But it was for a good cause, and as Katya had refused his offer of payment for their stay on the Reserve, insisting that they were to be her guests, it really was the least he could do. He glanced at Ron, who shrugged then gave a little nod.

"Of course we'll help," Harry said. "After all, it's nice of Katya to let us stay. I know they don't usually allow casual visitors, so the least we can do is support the fundraising event. That okay with you, Ron?"

"As long as I don't have to dance, I've got no problem with it if Harry doesn't," Ron said to his brother.

"Excellent!" Charlie said with a grin. "Katya will be really pleased to hear that. I didn't think you'd mind, but after what happened when you helped Bill out in Egypt, I wasn't sure how you'd feel about -"

"You know about that?" Harry interrupted, somewhat taken aback. Bill had assured him that Harry's involvement would not be made common knowledge.

"Of course! Bill told the whole family about his cure, and how it happened while you and Ron were helping them in some pyramid or other. I mean, he told us that you didn't want anyone knowing you'd been involved, but family doesn't count, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry echoed, feeling a little annoyed with himself. He should have realised that Bill would want to tell his family the good news. He just hoped they'd keep it to themselves, or at the very least keep his name out of it. Harry Potter and miracle cures mentioned in the same sentence was something he fervently wished to avoid.

"Speaking of Bill," Ron said, "I've got some photos of him and Fleur and the kids that I took. Want to see them?"

"I didn't know you were interested in photography," Charlie said.

"Neither did I," Ron said as he took out his wand and Summoned a bulky packet from the bedroom. "But then I never had a camera before we went to Egypt."

Ron opened the packet and took out a pile of photographs, which he handed to Charlie.

"These are pretty good," Charlie said as he looked through the photos. He held up one of Bill and Fleur sitting in their garden with the children. "I like this one."

"Keep it," Ron said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I took of loads of pictures. Mum wanted some recent ones of the kids, and Fleur said she'd sent her some, but I thought I'd take some, too."

Charlie nodded as he slowly shuffled through the pile of photographs.

"These really are good," Charlie said finally as he handed the photographs back to Ron. Then he pushed himself to his feet and said, "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm starving and I reckon that casserole's about done."

-----

Harry gave a contented sigh as he settled into the armchair in front of the fire. The casserole had been delicious. Charlie had served it with freshly baked bread and a crisp salad, and Harry had eaten far too much. He nodded his thanks as Charlie handed him a mug of coffee, and then stifled a yawn.

"Takes it out of you, Portkey travel," Charlie remarked. "Early nights all round, I reckon."

"Here we are," Ron said as he put a small cardboard box on the coffee table. He dropped into the chair next to Harry's and said, "Fleur thought you might like some Egyptian cakes, Charlie, so she packed a couple of boxes for us to bring with us. There's some baklawa, fig cakes and basbousa."

"You must have hollow legs," Harry muttered as Ron took the lid off the box, took out a piece of baklawa and seemed to swallow it whole.

"Got healthy appetites, us Weasley men," Charlie said with a grin as he helped himself to a sticky piece of basbousa.

"I don't think I could eat another thing," Harry said.

"And that's why you're still a skinny runt," Ron said, winking at Harry as he helped himself to a fig cake. "You don't eat enough to keep a flea alive."

"Did you say you had a few boxes?" Charlie interrupted. At Ron's nod, he continued, "It might be nice to take one along to Katya's when we go there for dinner tomorrow night. If you don't mind sharing, of course."

"If Ron leaves any," Harry said dryly.

"Oy!" Ron gave a mock pout, but then grinned and said, "Yeah, Fleur packed enough for an army."

"So how are Fleur and the kids, anyway?" Charlie asked. "It's been ages since I've seen them."

"Fine. The kids are growing like weeds. Cute little things, they are."

Charlie nodded. "And how's everyone back home? Mum owls me once a month or so, but all she says is that everyone's fine, and then nags me about coming home and settling down with some nice witch." Charlie rolled his eyes, then said, "Though hopefully, now Dad's Minister for Magic, she'll be too busy to worry about it for a bit."

"I wouldn't bank on it," Ron said ruefully. "Very single-minded about things, is Mum. Mind you, she's dead chuffed about Dad."

"I bet she is," Charlie said with a smile. "So what's everyone else up to these days?"

"Let's see. Ginny's doing well at St. Mungo's. Got herself a new boyfriend, and I think she might be serious about this one. He's just qualified as a Healer. Seems nice enough. And Fred and George are - well, they're Fred and George. Chasing everything in a skirt even though they're sort of unofficially living with Katie and Angelina, Mum pretends she doesn't know, of course. She's hoping they'll get married eventually. Though the way they were carrying on at Hermione's wedding, I reckon -"

"Hermione got married? Nobody told me!" Charlie gave Ron a searching look. "You okay, little brother?"

Ron looked confused for a moment, and glanced at Harry before suddenly breaking into a smile. "Oh, right. No, I'm fine with it, honest. I'm really happy for her. Richard, the bloke she married, well, he's a good sort. Thinks the world of her. Really nice bloke, which is handy. Would have been awkward if she'd married someone we hated, wouldn't it?" he said as he grinned at Harry.

"If we'd really hated him, he wouldn't have been marrying her," Harry said, and Ron nodded.

"You're right there. We'd have made sure of that. But anyway, the wedding went well, and she looked beautiful. Me, Harry and Ginny stood up for her at the church. And we've heard all the bridesmaid jokes from the twins, so don't bother. Anyway, it was a very posh reception. Very formal, lots of dancing and stuff. And, er, I don't know if anyone's told you yet, but Percy's home again, and he's finally getting married to Penny."

"What!" Charlie leant forward in his chair. "Just like that? After all this time he just waltzes home?"

"It's not like that," Ron said quickly. "Look, Charlie, there were reasons for what Percy did -"

"Like what?" Charlie interrupted.

Ron shot Harry a pleading look, and Charlie turned to face him. "Harry?"

"Percy was my spy in the Ministry, during and after the war. He distanced himself from the family for a very good reason, but the problem has been taken care of, and now he's come home. And that's all I can tell you."

Charlie sat back heavily and gave a low whistle. "There were rumours, you know? About Scrimgeour, and things that were happening at the Ministry." He shook his head as he gazed into the fire. After a moment he raised his head and said, "So. Percy the spy, eh? I'd never have thought it of him. He's always been such a stickler for rules and obeying authority. Wouldn't have dreamed he'd do something like that."

"Nobody did. That's why he was so effective," Harry said.

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "So what's he doing now? Still working at the Ministry?"

"Yes," Harry said. "He's your dad's senior adviser."

"Dad knows the full story, then?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Harry said.

"And Mum's happy about it?"

"Ecstatic," Ron said dryly. "She's got a wedding to plan."

"Well, if it's okay with them, that's good enough for me," Charlie said. He took a sip of his coffee and stared into the fire, obviously deep in thought. After a moment he nodded again and said. "Fair enough, then. So, what about you two? Have you given any thought to what you want to do while you're here?"

Harry shook his head, and Ron just shrugged.

"Well, why don't I tell you what we do, and then we can see what grabs your fancy," Charlie said.

Charlie's explanation of the work of the Reserve really was interesting, but Harry found himself yawning repeatedly until Charlie finally said, "I need to hit the hay. Got an early start tomorrow. And judging by the way Harry's yawning his head off, it wouldn't hurt you to get an early night, either."

"You head off," Ron said. "Me and Harry will clear up."

"If you're sure?"

At Ron's nod, Charlie headed off to the bathroom. Harry started to get up, but Ron waved him back into his chair and began gathering the mugs. Harry yawned widely once more, and let his eyes drift shut for a moment.

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes flew open. Ron was looming over him, smiling gently.

"C'mon, mate, let's get you to bed," Ron said. He took Harry's hand and hauled him out of the armchair.

"I'm too tired for a shower," Harry said as he walked into the bathroom. "I'll have one in the morning."

"Sounds good to me," Ron said as he picked up his toothbrush.

Five minutes later they closed and warded the bedroom door, undressed quickly and then dived into bed and snuggled under the covers.

"It's bloody freezing," Harry said as he wrapped himself around Ron.

"Probably just feels colder 'cause we've spent the last month in Egypt," Ron said.

"I suppose so."

"I know a way we can warm up," Ron said. "Want me to show you?"

Harry gave a snort of laughter at the exaggerated leer on Ron's face and said, "Warming Charm, you mean? Going to show me your prowess with your wand?"

"I can do amazing things with my wand," Ron said as he rolled Harry onto his back, pinning him to the bed.

"I don't know, I'm a bit tired," Harry said in mock-reluctance, and then he gave an appreciative moan as Ron's cock slid against his own. "You can do fucking brilliant things with your wand," he agreed fervently.

Ron stilled and said, "Are you sure you're not too sleepy? Maybe I should stop."

"Don't you bloody dare."

Harry's slipped his hands down to grope Ron's arse. And then Ron's lips were on his own as Ron rocked against him, showing him exactly how amazing his wand technique really was.

-----

Ron yawned widely as he put on his dressing gown and slippers. Harry was still asleep, and Ron smiled fondly at him before cancelling the Silencing and Locking Charms and opening the bedroom door.

"Finally! I thought you were going to sleep all bloody day."

Ron reached back and firmly shut the bedroom door. He'd expected Charlie to be at work, not sitting at the table with the newspaper spread out in front of him, a cup in his hand and a grin on his face, obviously waiting for them.

"Thought you two would never wake up," Charlie continued. "I banged on the door a couple of times but you ignored me."

"Silencing Charm," Ron explained absently.

Charlie raised an eyebrow and Ron felt his face heat up. He hadn't meant to blurt that out. He was still half-asleep and his sluggish brain wasn't censoring his mouth.

"Er, you see, I snore and Harry still has nightmares," Ron said quickly, "so we've sort of got into the habit."

"Oh, right," Charlie said. "Want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Ron said as he stumbled towards the bathroom.

A mug of coffee and a plate of hot, buttered toast were waiting on the table for Ron when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. He shot Charlie a grateful smile as he sat down and happily sipped at the hot, strong coffee.

"That's better," Ron said with a grin. "Thanks, Charlie."

"You're welcome," Charlie said. "So, you two sleep okay?"

Ron felt his face heat up again, and cursed the fact that he was a redhead. He knew that Charlie didn't mean anything by it. Ron took another sip of his coffee and willed his face to cool down.

"Yeah. Didn't realise we - I was so tired. I never knew going on holiday was so much hard work. Takes it out of you, all that sightseeing."

"Yeah, I suppose it does," Charlie said. "Actually, I was thinking of giving you and Harry a tour of the Reserve today, but if you're too tired -"

"No," Ron interrupted quickly. "That'd be brilliant. I'll be wide awake once I've had my coffee and a shower. I think it might just have been the Portkeys we took yesterday that really knackered us."

"They can take it out of you," Charlie agreed. "Okay then. We'll have lunch in the mess hall so you can meet some of the other handlers, and then I'll give you the grand tour. Did you and Harry remember to bring your brooms with you?"

Ron nodded as he munched on a piece of toast.

"Good. You'll need them to get around the Reserve. We'll need to make a move soon, though, so after you've finished your coffee you'd better go and wake Harry up."

At that moment, the bedroom door opened and Harry stumbled out, yawning widely. He wandered down to the bathroom, seemingly oblivious to his amused audience. The bathroom door opened again a minute or so later and Harry stopped abruptly in the doorway, a startled look on his face as he stared at Ron and Charlie.

"Want some coffee?" Ron asked, taking pity on his sleep-befuddled mate.

"Yeah. Sorry, not quite awake," Harry mumbled as dropped into a chair at the end of the table.

Charlie poured a mug of coffee, and Ron added sugar and milk to it before handing it Harry, who took a gulp and then smiled warmly at him. Ron inhaled sharply at the little flutter in his chest that he always felt when Harry smiled at him like that, and he suddenly, desperately wished that Charlie was somewhere else so he could indulge his sudden urge to grab the sleepy, gorgeous man in front of him and drag him back to bed.

"Shower," Ron blurted out as he pushed himself quickly to his feet, and fled.

-----

Harry almost choked on the slice of toast he was eating when Charlie suddenly said, "You and Ron. Everything okay, is it?"

"What?"

"He's been acting a bit... I dunno, odd, this morning, that's all. I just wondered -"

"He's always like that first thing," Harry said quickly. "His higher brain functions don't kick in until he's had a shower and some caffeine, then he's right as rain."

Harry picked up another piece of toast and stared fixedly at the table as he ate. He was aware of the weight of Charlie's gaze, but he studiously ignored it. After a moment, Charlie said, "Right. If you say so."

An uncomfortable silence settled on them. Harry was acutely aware that Charlie was still watching him. He'd have to talk to Ron about this. Working with dragons made a handler very good at reading subtle behavioural signs; his life depended on getting it right a lot of the time. And he'd obviously picked up something about Harry's relationship with Ron. They might have to sound him out a little, see how he'd be likely to react, as there was a very good chance he'd work it out for himself. Harry jerked his head up as a door slammed, to see Ron striding towards the table. He dropped into a chair at the end of the table.

"That's better! Felt like my brain was all clogged up," he said with a smile. "Your turn, mate. Did Charlie tell you what we're doing today?"

Ron frowned as Harry shook his head.

"Sorry, forgot you weren't here when I told Ron," Charlie said, his tone light. "Lunch at the mess hall, and then a tour of the Reserve. Okay?"

"Yeah, so get a move on, mate. I'm starving," Ron said with a wink.

-----

Harry was apprehensive about eating in the Mess Hall. He was the centre of attention wherever he went in the wizarding world, and he hated it. So he took a deep breath and steeled himself as they walked into the hall. He followed Charlie and Ron over to the counter, picked up a tray and joined the queue of people waiting to be served lunch. A few people greeted Charlie and nodded at them amiably as they shuffled forward. When it was their turn to select their meals, the man behind the counter greeted Charlie.

"The shepherd's pie's good today, Charlie," he said. Then he glanced at Ron and Harry. "That's got to be your brother, right? No mistaking that hair."

"Yeah. Nick, meet my brother Ron and his friend, Harry."

"Nice to meet you," Nick said. "Have the shepherd's pie, you won't be sorry."

"It's my favourite," Ron said. "Got any chips?"

They dumped their laden trays at the end of one of the long tables, and Charlie again introduced his brother and his friend around. Harry felt himself relaxing. Nobody here cared who he was. Here he was just a friend of Charlie's brother. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, and Charlie gave him an odd look.

"You okay there, Harry?"

"Yeah. It's just - this is like eating out in the Muggle world. Nobody's staring at me, or whispering about me, or shooting me half-terrified looks and avoiding me. I'm just Harry. Isn't it great?"

Charlie burst out laughing and shook his head. Just then, someone slapped Charlie on the back and dumped their tray on the table next to him.

"Charlie! This must be your brother. There's no mistaking that hair, now, is there?" the newcomer said as he dropped into the chair next to Charlie.

Ron muttered something under his breath about permanent hair glamours to Harry as Charlie grinned at the newcomer.

"Hi, Mike. Meet my brother Ron, and his best mate, Harry."

Mike nodded and grinned at them as he dug into his lunch. "Is Charlie taking you down to the pens this afternoon?"

Ron nodded. Mike peered at Harry for a moment, then said, "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

Harry gave a mental sigh, but as he opened his mouth Mike held up a hand in a quelling motion.

"No, don't tell me. It'll come to me." Mike worried at his lip for a moment. "Right, yes! You were there when we came to get Norbert from Hogwarts! You were much smaller then, but I remember big green eyes and messy black hair!" He laughed loudly at Harry's gobsmacked expression. Then he leant forward and in a soft voice said, "It's okay, Harry. You'll be left in peace here," and gave him a wink before turning his attention back to his lunch.

Mike invited himself along on their tour of the Reserve, and insisted that Charlie take them to see Norbert first. The Reserve had managed to acquire a female Norwegian Ridgeback, and Norbert was apparently a proud father. Harry silently conjured a camera and produced it as though from his pocket. Ron's eyes lit up as he grabbed it, and he took several photographs of Norbert and his family to send back to Hagrid. Harry smiled as he imagined Hagrid showing the photographs proudly to everyone and boasting about his 'grandchildren'.

They eventually managed to get Ron to stop taking photographs for a moment and moved on to a viewing platform, where they got a good view of the Ukranian Ironbellies.

"Get Katya to authorise a ride for these two, yeah? I'll happily go with you," Mike said enthusiastically. "Ironbellies are really the only dragons it's safe enough to ride if you don't know what you're doing," he explained.

Harry could quite well believe that. They were absolutely enormous, with broad backs and strong wings. You'd probably have to work quite hard to fall off, in fact, he thought.

They continued the tour, which Harry found fascinating. The Romanian Reserve was the only place on earth where you could see at least one pair of every breed of dragon in existence. They ended the tour at a large pen that held a Romanian Longhorn and four hatchlings, all enjoying an afternoon nap.

"And here's my girl," Charlie said with a proud smile. "Ron, Harry, meet Anica and her family. Romanian Longhorns are still endangered, so we've got an intensive breeding program going on here. Anica is vitally important. For some reason, most Longhorn females have the mothering instincts of a brick. They wander off and forget about their eggs, forget to feed the babies, squash them, let them get eaten - you name it. But Anica's brilliant. Always has a large clutch of eggs, never loses a single one, and every hatchling is well-fed, cared for, and grows up strong and healthy."

Charlie's pride in, and affection for, the beautiful green dragon was obvious to them all.

"She's the Molly Weasley of the dragon world." Harry eyes widened as he realised he'd said that out loud. "God, don't tell her I said that!"

Charlie and Ron burst out laughing.

"You're right, you know. She's just like Mum," Charlie said with a grin. "It's a terrific compliment, but she probably wouldn't see it that way. Anyway, let's head back and grab a cuppa. I've got an hour or so before I have to come back and see to Anica."

-----

There was a distinct chill in the air as they made their way to the Director's house for dinner, and Harry was glad he'd put on his warmest robes. Charlie told them that, as they were so high in the mountains, it would be even colder once the sun went down.

The Director welcomed them to her home, and seemed delighted with the box of Egyptian cakes that Ron presented her with. They hung up their cloaks, and then followed Katya into the living room. Harry was surprised that she lived in a house that was almost exactly the same as Charlie's. Even the furniture seemed to be the same, although she had more pictures and ornaments scattered about the place than Charlie did.

Katya had obviously seen something in Harry's expression, because she said, "We are all same, here. We serve dragons, da?" At Charlie's nod of agreement she continued, "Someone has to run this place, and it has fallen to me. But me? I would prefer to be down in pens every day." She laughed, a full, rich sound that filled the room, and Harry found it as charming as her accent.

"You are down in the pens every day," Charlie said with a grin. She swatted playfully at his arm.

"Hush, Sorin, I am at my desk every minute God sends. I need to stretch my legs sometimes, and no one can blame me for that, nu? Now, everyone sit. Dinner is almost ready."

Katya poured them each a glass of a rich, red wine, and then said, "So, Sorin took you on a tour of our Reserve today. What did you think?"

"It's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, then flushed slightly at his overenthusiastic outburst.

Katya smiled kindly at him, however, and said, "Yes, it is rather. I love it, myself."

"It's really interesting," Harry said. "I think we'll thoroughly enjoy our stay, here."

Katya nodded. "Good, I am very pleased to hear that. And has Sorin spoken to you of my tiny request?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and gave a good-humoured chuckle as he said, "Yes, I've done your dirty work for you, and they've agreed."

"Well, that is wonderful news! I shall send out the invitations tomorrow!" Katya said brightly as she beamed at them. "And now we shall eat."

She tapped her wand on the table, and large dishes and bowls of food appeared. She cast a critical eye over them, then said, "Help yourselves."

The food was wonderful, and when Harry finally wiped his mouth and laid his napkin on the table, he was convinced he wouldn't be able to move for hours, he was so full. Even Ron had admitted defeat, looking happily replete.

Katya had just brought coffee and a serving platter of the Egyptian cakes to the table when one of the bedroom doors opened and a tiny old woman shuffled out. Katya immediately went to her, but was waved away as the old woman slowly made her way over to Harry. The old woman placed a hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes and for a moment - a brief, unnerving moment - Harry was convinced that he saw a desperate pity in her eyes. For him. But as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished, to be replaced by an odd look of fond exasperation.

She spoke to him; a rapid stream of Romanian that had Harry shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," he said.

"Bunica says you are a very stubborn man, and that you have almost left it too late," a somewhat confused-looking Katya translated.

And at her words, something seemed to click for Harry and he nodded. The odd knowing that he needed to be here, in Romania. As he stared at the tiny old woman in front of him, a certainty settled on him. She was the reason he was here.

"I See you, Mage, and we must talk," she said haltingly, obviously struggling to find the right English words. "Come." Then she reached down, took Harry's hand, and gave it a little tug. "Come," she repeated.

Katya suddenly appeared at the old woman's side and said, "My grandmother is Seer, and she has obviously been expecting you." She spoke in rapid Romanian to her grandmother, who shook her head, said something in reply, and tugged at Harry's hand once again. Katya shrugged and said, "I ask if she needs to talk to you alone, but she says that we must all listen, for tonight. Go. Sit by the fire. I will bring coffee over."

With a growing sense of foreboding, Harry rose to his feet and allowed Katya's grandmother to lead him over to where a couch and several armchairs were arranged in front of a roaring fire. She settled herself down at one end of the couch and patted the seat next to her pointedly. As Harry sat down he sent a pleading look at Ron, who smiled reassuringly as he took the seat next to Harry. Charlie sat in one of the armchairs, and a moment later Katya placed a laden tray on the coffee table and began handing out tiny cups of coffee.

Harry gratefully accepted a cup, but as he sipped the strong, sweet coffee he was acutely aware that the old woman was watching him intently. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he put the cup down and turned towards her.

"It's not another prophecy, is it?" Harry asked.

"Nu, nu profetse," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Just for you. You do not know what you are, I think."

"What I am?"

"Da, what you are. You are Mage."

Harry slowly shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you mean by that. Do you mean I'm a wizard?"

"Nu, nu," the old woman said, shaking her head once more. "You puternic, puternic. Mage."

The old woman nodded firmly, looked at Katya and said something that Harry didn't quite catch.

"Stronger," Katya translated. "She says you're stronger than wizard. You are Mage. And you are in trouble."

Harry was taken aback. He shot a panicked glance at Ron, but the old woman tapped his arm and drew his attention back to her.

"You listen. Important," Bunica said to Harry, and then said something in rapid Romanian that caused Katya to nod briskly.

"Nothing said in this room will leave it," Katya said firmly. "Bunica tells me to assure you of that. But you must be honest with her and do as she says. It is matter of life or death for you."

At her words, Harry's automatic denial froze on his lips. He didn't trust Seers. Frauds and charlatans the lot, in his experience. But something was telling him that he could trust her. That she spoke the truth.

"You're right," he admitted. "But what do you mean, I'm in trouble?"

The old woman seemed to be searching for words, then gave up and spoke to Katya, who said, "I translate for you what Bunica tells me. She says that what you see as power fluctuations and loss of control is actually your magical core unbalancing - um, better word, destabilising, yes. Your core is destabilising. There is much damage." She turned to face her grandmother as the old woman spoke to her again. She listened carefully, asked a question, and when the old woman nodded, addressed Harry again.

"Okay. Bunica says you must repair the damage, restore the balance, or you will burn up, um... Explode, yes. Explode."

"Da," the old woman said. She bunched her hand into a fist, held it in front of Harry's face and then opened it suddenly. "Boom."

Harry's head jerked back and he stared at the old woman in shock. She nodded gravely, and then spoke to her granddaughter once more.

Katya nodded briskly and said, "Okay. That explains why she needed Sorin and I to hear this. You need to go into the mountains. There's a heavily shielded area, one of the dragon nesting sites. It's unused at the moment and is a safe place for you to do your repairs. And you need to do this very soon. Tomorrow would be best. You have already left it dangerously late."

"Hang on. Just hang on a minute," Harry objected. "How do I know if my core's been damaged? And more to the point, how does she know? And even if she's right, how the bloody hell am I supposed to fix it?"

Katya sighed. "I am not the person to ask these things of, Harry Potter. Bunica knows only. I will ask her to explain."

Harry leant back on the couch as Katya spoke to her grandmother. He closed his eyes and concentrated on taking long, slow breaths. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes, and his nerves were jangling. He was exhausted. The effort of constantly shielding against and controlling the magical surges was taking its toll on him. Something was definitely wrong with him. And given what had happened when he had faced Voldemort for the last time, it would make sense that his core was damaged. The backlash should have killed him, not left him more powerful. He knew instinctively that the old woman was right, and that his objections were nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction. He felt a warm hand on his arm and opened his eyes. Ron was looking at him, his concern clear in his eyes.

"You okay, Harry?" he said softly. "You're looking really pale. We can make our excuses and go, if you want."

"I would not advise that."

Katya was leaning forward in her chair, a worried expression on her face as she continued, "Bunica has explained all to me. She says your core was damaged by massive influx of power, yes?" At Harry's curt nod she continued, "You have been making repairs yourself. But yes, you have, even if you do not know it. Little patches here and there. But they are not enough and there are accidents. Time grows short and you must act. You must go to the mountains in the morning."

Bunica suddenly leant forward and said, "Da. Morning, you go Munti." Then she reached into a pocket in her voluminous skirt and pulled out a blood red crystal orb, about the size of a Remembrall. She placed it on the palm of Harry's hand and said, "Take. Is focus for healing. Little help for now, big help in Munti," as she folded his fingers around it. "Katya will tell," she added, waving a hand at her granddaughter.

"Bunica has given you a focus crystal. You must lower all your shields and meditate on the crystal. It will show you how to heal yourself," Katya continued.

Harry's head jerked up. "I can't do that! You've got no idea how dangerous that would be."

"Calm yourself. That is why you must go to the nesting place. Appropriately warded, it will be safe."

"Maybe she's right, mate," Ron said hesitantly. "You said yourself it's getting worse. And she reckoned you'd burn up if it's not fixed. What if she's right? It's got to be worth a try, right?"

Harry slowly shook his head. Bunica was talking with Katya again, and Charlie was listening to them, so Harry lowered his voice and said, "Remember Hermione's wedding day? And what happened in the Labyrinth? That was me losing control of my shields for a fraction of a second. I didn't drop them, Ron. They just wavered for a moment. That's all."

Ron's eyes widened. "Fuck," he breathed.

"Mage?"

Harry felt a tap on his arm, and turned his attention to Katya's grandmother once more.

"Is important. You must go dragon place," she said emphatically. Then she pointed at Ron and added, "He must go, too. He is your ground."

She tutted impatiently at Harry's confused expression, and Katya was once again pressed into service as translator.

"Bunica says, you go to him as lightning goes to earth. You need an anchor, a ground for your power. Sorin's brother is your anchor." She paused, then added, "And Bunica tells me that you know this already, apparently."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Harry said. He glanced quickly at Ron, who looked rather worried.

"Is good. Take your sotsya to Munti," the old woman said. "He necessary. Da, necessary for you."

Charlie made an odd, choking noise and began coughing violently. Katya thumped him vigorously on the back for a moment before turning to her grandmother and saying, "Bunica! Nu, nu, nu! Friend only, prieten, da?"

The old woman sent her granddaughter a pitying look and simply said, "I have Seen."

Harry sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. His headache was getting worse. Katya was arguing with her grandmother about something, and Charlie was staring at Ron with a very strange expression on his face.

The old woman suddenly rose to her feet and said, "Enough. You go Munti, come back and we talk."

Then she turned and began to make her way towards the kitchen. Katya jumped up and followed her, saying, "I won't be a moment."

"What the hell was that all about?" Ron said softly.

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "Something the old woman said seemed to set them off. Charlie looks like he's been hit by a Bludger, and Katya was arguing with her about it, I reckon."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "One way to find out, then." He raised his voice and said, "Oy, Charlie."

Charlie was staring into the fire, looking rather uncomfortable. He looked up warily.

"Want to explain what all that was about?"

Charlie grimaced. "Not really," he muttered.

"Why the hell not?" Ron demanded.

"Because I don't fancy being on the wrong end of your fist," Charlie said wryly.

"Grow some bollocks, Sorin," Katya said. She sat down, tapped the coffeepot with her wand and then topped up their drinks. "They're probably more worried about what you think than other way around. They've come from England. They don't know how things are here." She turned to Ron and said, "She said you were married; that you were his wife, his mate, if you prefer. That is what your brother did not want to tell you."

Ron's mouth dropped open as the colour drained from his face. But before he could say a word, Katya continued, "There is no need to say anything. Bunica has Seen you, and she is never wrong. Ever. Besides, you should not worry. Is not uncommon here for dragon handlers to have close friend. Maybe many close friends. Nobody cares. Good dragon handler is too hard to find to worry about who warms their bed. All that matters are dragons, and they certainly don't care! Is that not right, Sorin?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose so," Charlie mumbled.

"But now we must speak of serious things. Sorin, tomorrow you take them to northern nesting place where wards are strong, though I'm sure you," she flicked a glance at Harry, "are more than capable of strengthening them if you need to, if what Bunica tells me is true." Harry began to protest, but Katya raised a hand. "Bunica has Seen, and if she says that core is critically damaged and that you will die if you don't mend it, then she is right. You go, you fix, you come back and see Bunica when you return, da? She tells me she must talk to you alone when you are finished. So in morning you go. After all, you are of no use to our dragons or our Reserve if you're scattered all over Carpathian Mountains, nu?"

Harry sighed and nodded in defeat, too shell-shocked at the various revelations to argue. Ron sat, pale and silent, staring into his coffee cup. Charlie was gazing thoughtfully into the fire. Only Katya seemed unaffected, munching enthusiastically on a piece of baklawa with evident enjoyment.

Dropping his shields and containment was going to be extraordinarily dangerous, but it appeared that Harry had little choice. Keeping his magic contained was now a constant battle that he was definitely losing. He opened his hand to stare at the crystal that the old woman had given him. It seemed to be pulsing gently, somehow soothing the jagged clamouring behind his shields as they struggled with the now constant magical surges. "Let's hope this works," he muttered softly as he dropped the crystal into his pocket.

-----

It was a somewhat subdued trio who headed back to the cabin. Charlie strode on ahead, and Harry put his hand on Ron's arm to slow him down.

"I'm really sorry, Ron," he said in a soft voice.

"Don't be stupid, Harry. It's not your fault we ended up having a Seer spilling all our secrets. It was a really nice dinner too, up till then."

"I can Obliviate them, if you want?" Harry said tentatively, but Ron shook his head.

"I think we need to talk to Charlie, first. The way that Katya was talking, lots of blokes are like us out here and nobody gives a fuck." Ron stopped abruptly, turned to face Harry and said fiercely, "I'm not ashamed of being with you. Don't think that for a second. I just don't -"

"Ron, it's okay. I know what your Mum thinks about people like us. I don't expect you to be happy that Charlie might tell her, I really don't."

"It's not just that, though. She said we're married, for fuck's sake! What's that all about?"

"Buggered if I know," Harry said. Although he had a sneaking suspicion that it might not be totally unconnected with the exchanging of certain rings.

"And all that stuff she said about your core being damaged," Ron continued, "and needing me there to help fix it. Do you reckon she's right?"

"Actually, yeah, I think I do. It sort of makes sense," Harry said thoughtfully. "But it could be dangerous, Ron. I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to go with me."

"Don't be fucking stupid," Ron said firmly. "There's no way I'm letting you go off on your own. Someone's got to keep an eye on you."

"But -"

"But nothing. Come on, it's bloody freezing standing out here."

They set off again at a brisk pace. When they finally reached the cabin, however, Ron hesitated. He turned to Harry and said, "Let me do the talking, right?" Then he squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.

Charlie was sitting by the fire, a bottle of Firewhisky and three glasses on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up as they entered the living room, then picked up the bottle and poured them each a drink.

As they sat down, Charlie said, "What Katya's grandmother said about you two. Neither of you denied it. I suppose I should be more surprised, but it sort of makes sense, now I think about it. Especially with the way you were acting this morning, Ron." He took a gulp of his drink. "Don't worry, I'm not going to go running off to tell Mum or anything."

Ron visibly relaxed at Charlie's words, the tension seeming to flow out of him. Harry had been ready to Stun and Obliviate Charlie, despite Ron's insistence that he deal with his brother on his own. But Charlie's words reassured him, and he sat back in the armchair and took a sip of his drink.

Charlie continued, "I can't say I'm happy about this though. I mean, this'd break Mum's heart; you do know that, don't you? Are you sure you know what you're doing? This isn't some weird sort of reaction to Hermione going off with some other bloke and getting married, is it? You're only twenty-three; maybe you just haven't found the right woman yet." He carefully avoided looking at Harry, who sighed and shook his head.

Ron huffed. "I tried, mate, believe me. I went out with dozens of women after Hermione left, the twins made sure of that. And don't go thinking she went off with someone else and broke my heart, Charlie, because that's not what happened. It was my fault. I was the one who wanted someone else, not her; I just couldn't see it at the time, that's all. She did, though." Ron took a sip of his whisky. "Look, this is what I want, Charlie. I'm happy. It's my life, and I've got to do what's right for me," Ron said calmly. "I don't expect you to like it, or understand it, but I won't live a lie for the rest of my life to make you or anybody else happy. Anyway, Mum's cried herself to sleep more than once over you, you know? You going to quit the Reserve and go home?"

"Not exactly the same thing, Ron," Charlie said defensively.

"Isn't it? Comes down to the same thing. You could work on the Welsh Reserve. Close enough to visit regularly, and you could find yourself a nice English witch and pop out grandkids for her. But you'd hate living like that."

Charlie shook his head. "It's not that. It just wouldn't work. For a start, this isn't just a job; it's a way of life. It's very rare that a handler makes a successful go of it with an outsider. They end up resenting the dragons, you see, because they always come first. Always. And women are in short supply on the Reserves. It's a hard life, and women like Katya are few and far between. Besides, I could never leave Romania; this is the best Reserve in the world. Every handler wants to work here."

"In other words, it's your life, and you're living it in a way that makes you happy." Ron stared calmly at Charlie, who huffed and took a swig of his drink.

"Fine, okay, you've made your point as far as Mum's concerned. But..." Charlie sighed. "I don't want to see you hurt, little brother, and you know what would happen if this got out. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Ron snorted softly. "It doesn't work that way, Charlie. You don't wake up one morning and decide life's a bit boring, so you're going fuck it up the fastest way you can. It just is. I'm... I'm happy with Harry, and nothing's going to change that."

Charlie nodded slowly. He took a swig of his whisky and said, "I'm assuming that pretty much everything Bunica said tonight is highly confidential?"

"I think you can safely say that, yes. We've gone to great lengths to protect some of it," Harry said. "And I'll do whatever I have to, to ensure it stays protected."

Charlie looked at Harry for the first time since he'd walked into the room.

"There's no need to worry, Harry, I promise you. Seers never talk about what they See to anyone who isn't involved, and Bunica'd skin Katya and me alive if we even thought about it. Whatever she's Seen about you must involve me and Katya somehow, or she'd never have spoken in front of us. For some reason we needed to know what she told us tonight. There's obviously more that we don't need to know, which is why she wants to see you privately when you get back."

"But she just needed Katya to translate and give us permission to go to the nesting grounds, and you need to take us there," Harry said.

"No," Charlie said emphatically. "She'd have sat up all night playing charades with you in a locked room if that's what it took to make you understand. Or she could have used a Translation Charm if she grew desperate enough, even though they're horribly inaccurate. But she'd never have spoken in front of us if we weren't meant to know about everything she said. She'd simply have told Katya where you needed to go, and she'd have ordered me to take you. She wouldn't have explained herself to either of us, and we'd have known better than to ask."

"Fuck it," Harry said morosely as he picked up his drink and took a large swallow.

"Well, I've done my big brotherly duty and tried to talk you out of ruining your life and alienating yourself from the rest of the family and polite society in general. Pretty much a waste of time, really. I don't think anyone has been able to talk a Weasley out of anything, ever. I've got no problem with you two; as Katya said, it's not uncommon on the Reserves, but it's dragon business, so no one talks about it with outsiders. Besides, it'd be a bit hypocritical of me."

Charlie smirked at them as he picked up the bottle and topped up everyone's drink. Then he raised his glass in a toast and said, "So, congratulations, little brother, on bagging yourself the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world. How come I didn't get an invitation to the wedding of the century?"

"I wish you had," Ron said, "because then you could have told me and Harry when it supposedly happened."

"No supposedly about it," Charlie said. "Bunica is never wrong, trust me."

Harry had the feeling that he was going to grow very sick of hearing that phrase.

"She has to be wrong," Harry objected. "I mean, blokes can't get married. Not to each other, anyway."

"Well, not officially they can't," Charlie said, "but the bit of paper isn't what counts, you know that."

Ron nodded, but Harry simply looked puzzled.

"You were raised by Muggles, I know, so you wouldn't have learnt that stuff at home like we did," Charlie said to Harry. "But didn't they teach it in seventh year?"

"We wouldn't know. We left early to hunt down a Dark Lord," Ron said dryly.

"Oh, right." Charlie settled back in his seat and said, "Okay, crash course in magical bonds. For wizards, the wedding is just for show. Somebody officiates at the ceremony, and you say the words and sign the book, but that's purely administrative stuff for the Ministry records, and an excuse for a booze-up for the relatives and friends. But the marriage actually happens when the couple pledge on their magic to share their lives, and form the marriage bond. Actually there's a whole heap of family bonds. You must have come across some of them, Harry. You're head of two families now."

"Not really," Harry said. "I read some stuff in the Potter family chronicles, but it didn't go into a lot of detail. It concentrated more on the responsibilities of the head of the family, that sort of thing. I was trying to find information on the family rings, but it concentrated mainly on betrothal bonds and heirs."

Charlie nodded. "Probably assumed it was common knowledge. You should get yourself a book. Flourish and Blotts would have something, I'm sure. You need to know this stuff. As far as family bonds go, there's the betrothal, which is a time-limited bond that becomes binding when the marriage occurs. Once kids turn up, the parental bond sort of over-writes the marriage bond. That's why divorce is practically unheard of once there're kids involved. Then there's a sort of fealty bond that all family members have to the paterfamilias. But not as a person, more as a symbol of the family, or house. It means any member can appeal to the head of family for help, and they have to provide it. The Dark Mark was a form of fealty bond, actually, though it was modified. He added all sorts of compulsions and punishments. Nasty." Charlie grimaced and took a sip of his whisky. "Anyway, you two have bonded somehow, according to Bunica. Exactly how you did it, well, your guess is as good as mine. But it doesn't matter - if the bond exists, you're married, simple as that."

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was staring at his left hand. He looked up suddenly, as though he'd felt Harry's gaze, and gave him a look that promised a discussion on the subject of family bonding rings in the very near future.

"Well, maybe you can ask Katya's grandmother when you get back from the northern nesting grounds," Charlie continued. "If she could see your bond, maybe she can tell you when it happened."

-----

Charlie headed off to the bathroom and left Ron and Harry talking. As he cleaned his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. Ron had chosen a hard path, and part of him ached for his little brother. He didn't want to see him hurt. Their mum was positively vitriolic on the subject of 'unnaturalness', and he knew it'd break Ron's heart if she spewed all that hatred at him. Not to mention the reaction of the rest of the wizarding world if they found out about Ron and Harry's unconventional relationship. But on the upside, he'd managed to get bonded to probably the most powerful wizard in existence, if Katya's grandmother was to be believed, so his physical safety wasn't an issue.

He cast his mind back, remembering a younger, more innocent Ron. How excited and overawed he'd been that The Harry Potter had chosen him as his friend. He supposed that the Triwizard Tournament had been a really big clue, looking back. Ron had been the thing that Harry would miss the most, even back then. Charlie remembered the first time he'd met Harry. Scrawny little sod, he'd been, with eyes that seemed too old, too knowing for a kid. Even then there'd been something about him... Charlie shook his head. He'd support them any way he could. After all, he and Anton had been known to bunk down together after a skin-full, especially when they'd been snowed under with work and a visit to the girls at Rosie's Parlour was a distant memory and an even more distant future prospect. Live and let live, that was his motto.

He contemplated having a shower and decided he couldn't be bothered. He'd grab one in the morning before they set off.

He opened the door quietly and peered out, to see Harry perched on the arm of Ron's chair.

"...no idea, I swear. I just wanted to give you my family ring."

"Will you stop bloody apologising! I told you, I'm fine with it. Honestly. Now stop fussing, will you? I don't regret it for a second. Do you?"

"Of course not, you prat. I love you," Harry said as he leant towards Ron, who tilted his head, and Charlie thought he should probably let them know he was there before they started kissing in front of him.

"Bathroom's free," he said loudly as he walked towards his bedroom. "You two had better hit the hay, because we'll be setting off early tomorrow." He gave them a smirk and added, "I was going to say something about Silencing Charms, but I'm sure you two have had plenty of practice, what with all the snoring and the nightmares, eh? Goodnight."

Charlie sniggered as he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him.

-----


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

-----

Harry was dragged abruptly from a deep sleep by a loud thumping noise. It took him a few moments to realise that someone was knocking on the bedroom door, but before he could call out the door opened and he saw Charlie peer around it.

"Time to get up, you two. Breakfast is nearly ready and we need to get going."

"Okay," Harry mumbled as heard the bedroom door click shut again.

Ron was still sound asleep and snoring happily. Harry poked him in the ribs and the snoring ceased abruptly.

"Time to get up, Ron."

Ron groaned loudly in protest and reached for Harry, pulling him into his arms.

"Mmm. Sleep," Ron muttered, tightening his hold on Harry.

And quite honestly, Harry would have given anything to be able to stay right there, warm and safe in Ron's arms. But today... His stomach plummeted at the thought of what he had to do today. Whatever doubts he'd had last night had seemingly evaporated, to be replaced by a cold certainty. His core was damaged. And if he didn't repair it, he'd die.

He eased himself out of Ron's arms, slipped on his dressing gown and slippers and headed to the bathroom.

As Harry stood under the shower spray, all he could think about was how dangerous it was going to be to attempt the repair. It had to be done, that much was obvious. Leaving aside what Katya's grandmother had said about his possible imminent, and explosive, demise; if the damaged to his core was the reason for the destructive surges of raw magic that he fought against daily, then he had no choice. He was a danger to himself and everyone around him.

But the prospect of voluntarily lowering his shields was a terrifying one. And despite the Seer's words about Ron being necessary to the repair process, Harry was seriously considering leaving him with Charlie. If Harry lost control, or if something went wrong, and that was a very real possibility, all that would be left behind would be a rather large, smoking crater. Harry found it difficult to justify risking Ron's life in that way.

With a heartfelt sigh, Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower – straight into the arms of a very naked, grinning Ron.

"You were too quick for me, mate," Ron said. "I was coming to wash your back for you. I thought we could share a nice, relaxing shower before our busy day."

Harry stepped back, pulling out of Ron's arms as he said, "Look, Ron. I - I think you should stay with Charlie, today."

The smile melted from Ron's face. "I knew you'd bloody do this," he said sharply. Then he reached out and grabbed Harry, pulling him back into his arms. "You are not leaving me behind."

"It could be really dangerous, Ron."

Harry felt Ron's arms tighten around him as Ron said, "Of course it's fucking dangerous. I know that. Do you think I'm an idiot or something?"

"That wasn't what I meant."

"I need to be there. You need me, and you know it."

Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall forward to rest against Ron's shoulder as he slipped his arms around Ron's waist.

"Yeah, I do," Harry admitted softly. "But if anything happened to you -"

"You need me," Ron interrupted stubbornly. "Besides, your magic seems to leave me alone. I'm probably safer than you are, mate. So I'm coming with you, and that's final."

Harry raised his head just as Ron lowered his, their lips meeting in a desperate kiss. Harry gave a little moan as he felt Ron's hands slip down to cup his buttocks, holding Harry in place as Ron began to thrust gently against him.

"You trying to distract me?"

"Depends. Is it working?" Ron asked, then he ducked his head to capture Harry's lips again.

Harry gasped into Ron's mouth as he felt Ron's fingers slip into his arse crack.

"Want you," Ron whispered against Harry's lips.

"We can't," Harry said reluctantly. "Charlie told me we need to leave as soon as possible."

"I can be really quick," Ron said, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"That's not generally something to boast about."

"Prat!" Ron chuckled. Then, with a loud sigh, he released his hold on Harry and took a step back. "I suppose I'd better hop in the shower, then. Sure you don't want to wash my back for me?" he added with a leer.

Harry was hard. And Ron was very obviously in the same condition – and had apparently noticed that Harry's resolve was wavering, because he moved closer and wrapped his hand around Harry.

Harry couldn't bite back the desperate little sound that escaped his throat, and Ron pressed his advantage, pushing Harry slowly but surely back into the shower.

"A nice, warm shower. Me and you all wet and slippery. Doesn't that sound good?" he whispered teasingly against Harry's ear as Harry's back hit the wall.

It sounded wonderful. And Ron, hot and hard and pressed against him, felt even better. Ron's hand was moving steadily, stroking him exactly the way he liked, and when Ron began to nibble at that one spot on Harry's neck that always made him shudder, he knew he was lost.

"Fuck, yes," Harry gasped as his hand slipped down to join Ron's.

"Need you," Ron moaned.

Harry felt Ron slip a hand around to cup his arse cheek once more, and grinned.

"Persistent sod, aren't you?"

"I'm very goal oriented," Ron said.

Harry snorted. That sounded exactly like something Hermione would say, but he wasn't stupid enough to mention that while they were both naked and rutting against each other. Instead, he muttered the words of the preparation charms loudly enough for Ron to hear and then turned in his arms to brace himself against the shower wall. He felt a sudden chill as Ron stepped away, and turned his head to look at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he said over his shoulder.

"Need to get some lube, you impatient git," Ron said.

Harry conjured a handful of lube, reached out and quickly slathered it about with abandon.

"There. I'm done, you're done, so let's get on with it," Harry said as he turned to face the wall once more.

"You could turn a bloke's head, talking all romantic like that," Ron said dryly.

Harry snorted softly, then closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively as he felt the heat of Ron's body against his back. Ron kissed his neck as he spread Harry wide open and Harry exhaled sharply as Ron entered him in one, steady stroke.

True to his word, Ron really didn't take long – but then, neither did Harry.

"I've got you," Ron said as Harry slumped weakly against the wall, Ron still pressed tightly against him.

"That's good," Harry muttered. "But who's got you?"

Ron chuckled as he pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "C'mon, you. We'd better get a move on. Charlie's waiting for us."

"If he says anything, I'm blaming you," Harry grumbled as he turned on the water. Ron was always disgustingly chirpy after sex, when all Harry wanted to do was sleep.

Ron just grinned as he reached for the soap.

-----

Charlie was halfway through his breakfast by the time Ron and Harry took their seats at the table.

"Thought you two had drowned in there," Charlie said, a knowing smirk on his face. "Eat up. We need to get going soon. We've got a long flight in front of us."

"Bloody hell, give us a minute, will you?" Ron grumbled. He shot a quelling glare at a sniggering Harry, then concentrated on piling food onto his plate and hoped his brother hadn't noticed the embarrassed flush that heated his face.

"I'm just saying," Charlie said mildly. "It'll take us several hours to get there because we can't Apparate or Portkey in. And we have to take a rather circuitous route because we can't fly over some of the habitats. Now, Katya's sent over a picnic basket for us to take with us. I've shrunk it and packed it in that backpack along with some rugs and stuff." Charlie indicated the small bag on the chair next to him. "So if there's anything you need to bring with you, we can put it in there, okay?"

"Why can't we Apparate or use a Portkey?" Harry asked.

Ron had been wondering the same thing. He could understand why those methods couldn't be used to enter the dragon habitats. It would be far too dangerous when you couldn't be sure exactly where the dragons were. But the nesting area was unused, so there was no chance of appearing in the wrong place – between a dragon and its dinner, for example.

"Because of the wards. We can't have people wandering in and out of the Reserve, Harry. Much too dangerous. And without the wards the dragons would be rampaging all over the place. The whole Reserve is warded to the hilt."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, "Have you been there? To the nesting site, I mean?" At Charlie's nod, he continued, "If you'd let me see your memories of the place, I might be able to Apparate us there."

Charlie shook his head. "That's not possible."

"Let him try, Charlie," Ron said. "It can't hurt."

Charlie looked unconvinced, but finally said, "Yeah, all right. What do I do?"

"Just think about the nesting site. Where it is, how you get there, everything you know about it the place," Harry said.

Charlie stared off into the distance for a moment, then turned towards Harry.

"Okay, so what happens now?"

"Got it," Harry said, then silently vanished.

Charlie's jaw dropped. He stared at the empty chair, then turned to Ron, a look of confusion on his face.

"Where the fuck did he go?"

"The nesting site, presumably, " Ron said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, I can get us there," Harry said as he reappeared next to Ron. "Do you need to come with us, Charlie? It might not be safe for you once I lower my shields."

"What? Just hang on a minute. Are you telling me you think you can Apparate there?"

"I just did," Harry said.

Charlie blinked. Then he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

"You all right?" Ron asked.

Charlie visibly pulled himself together and gave a sharp nod.

"Yeah. Fine."

"So, do you need to come with us?" Harry repeated.

"Er... Well, no, not really. It was mainly to guide you there. But what do you mean it won't be safe? What about Ron?"

"Charlie! Leave it, all right?" Ron snapped. "I know what I'm doing, and I'll be perfectly safe." Then he turned to Harry and added, "And you need to eat. We don't know how long this will take and you'll need all the energy you can get."

Ron kept piling food onto Harry's plate, and Harry made a valiant effort to eat as much of it as he could. He finally pushed his plate away, though, and excused himself, telling Ron he needed to get some stuff from their room.

Charlie had been oddly silent during breakfast, but Ron could tell that he was dying to say something.

"Just spit it out," Ron finally said with a sigh.

"Has he always been able to do that? I mean -"

"I know what you mean," Ron said quickly. "And no. It was a side effect of Voldemort trying to kill him."

"That's a hell of a side effect."

"It's come in handy once or twice."

Charlie raised an eyebrow and sent a questioning look at Ron, but Ron simply shook his head.

"I can't talk about it, Charlie. And you can't, either. You can't tell anybody about Harry."

"I know that," Charlie said, sounding vaguely offended. He picked up his cup and sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "Look, Ron. It's probably none of my business, but -"

Charlie stopped speaking abruptly as the bedroom door opened and Harry walked back into the room. Ron immediately got to his feet and picked up the backpack. Whatever Charlie wanted to say could wait for another time.

"Ready to go, mate?" At Harry's nod, Ron continued, "Wish us luck, Charlie. We'll see you when this is all over."

Then he slipped an arm around Harry's waist and they silently vanished.

-----

"Sorin! What are you doing here?" Katya asked as she walked into Anica's pen. "You can't have taken them and returned already."

"Harry Apparated them there," he said quietly. Katya's eyebrows shot up.

"Did he indeed? That should not have been possible." She sighed loudly. "Bunica knows much, but she says nothing, just that we must wait." Katya gave Charlie an appraising look then said, "Worrying won't help anyone, and there is nothing we can do." She glanced quickly around the pen, then continued, "Well, I came to tend to the good mother, here, but it seems you have finished already. So come, it's almost lunchtime. We might as well eat now."

Charlie nodded absently as he watched the Horntail Dam with her brood. The young were strangely subdued, and their mother was staring in the direction of the northern nesting grounds. Every so often she cocked her head, as though listening to something.

"They're all like this," Katya said. "I've toured all the pens this morning, and they are all quiet, watchful, as though they are waiting for something. It is as if they know something is happening."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Charlie said as he turned to leave the pen. "They've always been able to read magical currents and disturbances."

"Perhaps," Katya muttered as she followed him out of the pen.

-----

"This it, then? Not really what I was expecting," Ron said as he gazed around the small clearing. It was completely flat, and protected by large trees and shrubs on all sides. "I thought it'd be rockier. Less trees and stuff."

"This is where the handlers set up camp when they come up here. The dragons nest further up the mountain. There's a cave with a rocky ledge that they use," Harry explained. He'd seen both sites in Charlie's memories and decided that the campsite would better suit their purpose.

"Don't we need to be up there, then?"

Harry shook his head. "The wards cover this area, too," he said. "And I think it might be a bit safer out in the open. Don't want to risk bringing the cave down on top of us."

"Good point," Ron said. He dropped the backpack next to a circle of small rocks in the middle of the clearing that was used as a makeshift firepit, judging by the charred log still sitting in its centre. "I'll get us set up, then. Start a fire and unpack the food and stuff. You probably need to do your thing." Ron waved his hand vaguely about. "You know, the wards and whatever."

Harry walked slowly towards the edge of the clearing, stopping when he felt the buzz of the wards. He closed his eyes and concentrated, mentally cataloguing them. Katya hadn't exaggerated. They were much stronger than Harry had expected them to be. But he decided to err on the side of caution and began adding his own, layering them, one over the other, until he doubted he could penetrate them himself. When he was completely satisfied that he'd made the wards as strong as he possibly could, Harry made his way back to the centre of the clearing.

Ron had obviously been busy. He'd laid out some sort of canvas groundsheet and put a heavy, warm-looking rug on top of it. The picnic basket was open, and Harry could see a small kettle perched precariously on a log at the edge of the merrily burning campfire.

"Thought you might fancy a cuppa," Ron said as he pulled a couple of mugs out of the picnic basket.

Harry just shrugged. Now that he'd set the wards he wanted to get it over with. His stomach was churning and his hands felt clammy as the enormity of what he was about to do suddenly hit him anew. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his jangling nerves.

"Or not. Sit down, mate. You're white as a ghost."

Harry hadn't notice Ron move, but he was suddenly at Harry's side.

"Come on," Ron prompted as he ushered Harry towards the rug. "Sit down next to the fire."

Ron wrapped an arm protectively around Harry as they sat together. Harry stared silently into the flickering flames, but he could feel the weight of Ron's gaze. He turned his head slightly to see Ron watching him, a look of concern on his face.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Harry said eventually.

Ron's brow furrowed as he said, "You just have to meditate on that crystal that Katya's grandmother gave you, don't you? Doesn't sound that hard."

Harry shook his head impatiently. "That's not what I meant, Ron. I know what I'm supposed to do. It's just... I can't risk lowering my shields with you here."

Ron huffed loudly. "Don't fucking start this again, Harry."

Harry shuffled around until he was facing Ron.

"I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because of me."

"I can't believe you would be this selfish, mate," Ron said tightly.

Harry's eyes widened. "What? I'm trying to protect you!"

"How? By trying to do this on your own, even though the fucking Seer said you needed me to make it work? What if it goes wrong and you get killed? What am I supposed to do? Live the rest of my life without you, knowing I'm the reason you died?"

Ron reached out suddenly, and Harry found himself hauled into a bear hug.

"We're bonded. For better or worse, yeah?" Ron whispered against Harry's ear. "If I was in your place, would you leave me?"

Harry shook his head, and felt Ron's arms tighten around him for a moment before he was released.

"Right, then. Let's get on with it," Ron said firmly. "How are we going to do this?"

The look of stubborn determination on Ron's face told Harry that any further arguments were futile, and with a sigh he gave up. And he had to admit that part of him was secretly relieved that Ron had insisted on staying. He really hadn't wanted to attempt this on his own, and every instinct he had was screaming at him for trying to make Ron leave. Ron needed to be there.

"Well, we probably need to stay sitting, or maybe even lying down."

Ron nodded. "Makes sense. I think - I think I need to be holding you."

Yes, that felt right. Anchor. Ground. Harry felt something inside him start to break free.

The rug was soft and warm, but Harry thought that it probably wouldn't be terribly comfortable if they had to sit on it for longer than half an hour or so, even if they used a Cushioning Charm. He looked around, spotted a small rock and transfigured it into a large beanbag.

"You sit on that, Ron, and I'll sit in front of you. It'll support you or you'll get tired holding me up. I don't know how long this will take."

Ron flung himself awkwardly into the beanbag and once he was settled, Harry sat between his legs, his back to Ron's chest. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry, who turned his head to stare at Ron for a moment before their lips met.

"I'm going to take down my shields in a moment, and I don't know what's going to happen, Ron. Just close your eyes and hang on."

"Whenever you're ready," Ron said. Harry gave him a last kiss, and then turned to face forward. He slipped the glowing red crystal that Bunica had given him out of his pocket and cradled it in his hands. It was pulsing brightly now, faster and faster, and he took a deep breath and slowly lowered his shields. He felt Ron's arms tighten around him as his magic surged and lashed about them as it broke free. Ron's presence surrounded him, and Harry kept his eyes fixed on the crystal, which glowed more and more brightly until it was suddenly blinding him, and Harry slammed his eyes shut.

It was quiet. He could feel the heat of the sun on his face and hear birds singing. He opened his eyes to find himself sitting on the lawns at Hogwarts, at the edge of the lake. He blinked a few times, but the view didn't change. He spotted Ron lying on the grass a couple of yards away, and quickly got to his feet.

"Ron?"

Ron opened his eyes as he sat up. He looked around, and appeared to be as confused as Harry felt.

"What on earth are we doing at Hogwarts?"

Harry looked around carefully. Something wasn't quite right. There! There appeared to be a crack in the lake. And another, in the middle of the small grove of trees. Now that Harry knew what he was looking for, he could see cracks and fissures all around him, as though he were standing in an old oil painting that had been bent and creased.

"It's not Hogwarts, Ron."

Ron frowned as he looked around. "It definitely looks like... Hang on. What's that? It looks like a crack or something. And over there, too. They're everywhere! What the fuck's going on, Harry?"

"I think..." Harry chewed on his bottom lip as his mind worked furiously. It obviously wasn't Hogwarts, but wherever they were, it felt familiar. No, more than that. Harry knew this place as well as he knew...

"We're in my core, I think. That's what all the cracks are. The damage."

"Fucking hell! That's..." Ron shook his head as he looked around. "I mean, it makes sense that you'd need to be here, I suppose, to fix it. But what am I doing here? How am I here? That's not possible, mate."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I've got no idea, Ron. For some reason you're connected to my magic. Maybe this is why Bunica insisted you had to be here."

"Maybe I need to be here so you can do the repairs," Ron said slowly. "So how do we do this?"

"Very slowly and carefully."

Ron shot him a scornful glance, and Harry smiled back at him.

"Seriously, though? I actually have no idea."

Harry walked up to one of the fissures and visualised it healing. Nothing happened. Then Ron tried casting _Reparo_, but the crack remained stubbornly unchanged. They tried casting at the same time, and finally had some slight success. Unfortunately, they had to cast the spell three more times before they finally managed to heal that one, small breach. They stared critically at the fine scar that remained, and Harry shook his head. There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of fissures. It was going to be an impossible task.

Harry's shoulders slumped and he turned towards Ron, who was gazing thoughtfully at a large fissure.

"We might as well just give up now. There's no way we can fix all this. It took us four tries to fix that one, tiny crack. We'll be here till Doomsday."

Ron nodded absently, his attention still on the fissure. After a moment he looked at Harry and said, "You're right. But I think that's because we're doing it wrong. I'm your anchor, remember? Come here a sec."

He pulled Harry against him, back to chest, and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. Almost immediately, Harry could feel an odd tingling sensation begin to build in his hands. He raised his arms, and gasped as a bright, blue-white light poured from his outstretched hands and spread out, healing every crack it touched. At a nudge from Ron, Harry began to slowly turn on the spot, Ron shuffling behind him, keeping a tight hold on him.

Harry fought the urge to laugh as he pictured himself and Ron spinning slowly on the spot like some sort of demented human lighthouse. There was no sensation of time passing, though Harry was aware that the repairs must be taking a great deal of time. They'd completed three complete rotations when Harry felt Ron stumble behind him. He spun quickly to catch him, and eased him to the ground. Ron looked pale and tired, and Harry felt horribly guilty.

"Just need to rest for a minute," Ron mumbled as he closed his eyes. He was sound asleep in seconds.

Once Harry was certain that Ron really was fine, and simply sleeping, he stood up again and looked around. He'd expected to see some scarring; after all, their first repair attempt had left a fine blemish. But not a single crack, fissure or crinkly line marred the view. The landscape looked perfect. The colours were startlingly bright, and Harry felt better than he could remember feeling in a long time. He felt strong, refreshed, and at peace.

He closed his eyes and opened his senses. His magical core was whole, complete. He could feel it pulsing strongly around him, and when he opened his eyes again he was outside his core. It shone, the golden light strong and perfectly balanced. No leaks, no cracks, no uncontrolled surges. He smiled as he drifted slowly back to consciousness.

Harry jumped as a loud snore almost deafened him. Ron was drooling onto his neck, and snoring in his ear. Harry chuckled softly and eased himself out of Ron's arms. He stood and stretched, shaking the stiffness out of his limbs.

The fire had long since burnt out, and the sun was high in the sky. Harry made a beeline for a tree and relieved himself, sighing happily, and then he cast a quick cleaning charm on his hands before rummaging through the picnic basket in search of food and drink. He devoured a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of Butterbeer and then, having taken care of the urgent necessities, he turned his attention to Ron.

A quick scan showed that Ron's magic was heavily depleted and he was physically exhausted, but it was nothing that a good night's sleep or two wouldn't cure. He nudged Ron awake and handed him a sandwich, which Ron swallowed almost whole before dashing off in search of a tree himself.

Harry took a couple of bottles of Butterbeer and a pile of sandwiches out of the picnic basket, and Ron's eyes lit up as he dropped onto the rug next to Harry.

Ron had finished his fourth sandwich in quick succession, washed down by two bottles of Butterbeer, before he finally paused long enough to say, "That's better, I was starving. I still feel pretty weak, though."

"Your magic is depleted. Nothing a little rest won't cure."

Ron nodded, then reached out and took Harry's hand. As he did, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then snapped open as a look of surprise crossed his face.

"Bloody hell! That was weird!"

"What?"

"When I held your hand, I could feel your magic. I couldn't do that before." He smiled and added, "It's humming. It feels sort of - happy."

"I feel brilliant," Harry agreed.

Ron nodded thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "You're still as strong as before, aren't you? I wasn't sure you would be. I thought lowering your shields might let all that extra power escape, but I don't think it has."

Harry felt something tighten in his chest.

"Is that what you hoped would happen?" he asked quietly.

Ron shrugged. "Honestly? I've got used to you being able to do all this stuff. Doesn't bother me one way or the other." His brow furrowed as he studied Harry's face, then he added, "Give me some credit, mate. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"I didn't think that -"

"Yeah, you did," Ron interrupted. "And I admit, you've scared the shit out of me at times. But I'm not going anywhere, Harry. You're stuck with me."

Harry leant in and dropped a soft kiss on Ron's lips.

"I love you, too."

"Soppy bastard," Ron mumbled. His cheeks were flushed, though, and his eyes seemed bright, and Harry grinned happily at him.

"Any more of those sandwiches in there?"

Harry chuckled and fished a couple more sandwiches out of the basket, and while Ron ate, Harry dismantled the extra wards he'd erected and then began packing up their makeshift camp.

When everything was finally shrunk and packed into the small backpack, Harry took a last look around the nesting site, then wrapped his arms around Ron and Apparated them both back to Charlie's cabin.

-----

Charlie wasn't at home, so they unpacked and had a very welcome hot shower, and then Harry made a pot of tea while Ron went to light the fire in the living room. He'd just poured himself and Ron a large mug of tea each when a loud bang and clattering noise from the direction of the front door told him that Charlie was back. Harry poured another mug for Charlie, put the tea and the biscuit tin on a tray and was just carrying it out of the kitchen as Charlie came into the living room. He stopped in his tracks, a look of relief on his face.

"When did you two get back?"

"About half an hour ago?" Ron hazarded. "Just long enough to have a shower and make a cup of tea. Speaking of which..."

Harry put the tray on the coffee table, then picked up Ron's mug and passed it to him.

Ron gave Harry a grateful smile before taking a long slurp of his tea and saying, "Oh, that's good. Nothing like a nice cuppa."

"Never mind the bloody tea. What took you so long? I was getting ready to send out a search party," Charlie said irritably.

"We were only gone a day, Charlie," Ron said. "We got back as soon as we could."

"You were gone for three bloody days!"

Ron and Harry stared at Charlie in surprise.

"You're kidding!" Ron said.

"We did three complete repair rotations," Harry said thoughtfully. "Must have taken a day each. No wonder you were so wiped out, Ron. Actually, you should probably come and sit down. You're looking a bit pale."

Harry put a hand on Ron's back and urged him towards the armchair closest to the fire, ignoring the smirk on Charlie's face at his fussing. Charlie took the chair opposite Ron, and nodded his thanks as Harry placed a mug of tea in front of him.

"So, you all sorted out now, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he dropped into the chair next to Ron's. "Yeah, I feel brilliant. And I couldn't have done it without Ron." He smiled fondly at his mate.

"Well that's a relief. Maybe things will get back to normal around here now." Questioning looks were turned on Charlie, so he elaborated, "Not long after you two left, the dragons started behaving oddly. The hatchlings got very subdued, and the adults were..." Charlie shook his head. "They were wary. Watchful. Really unsettled. They were scenting the air and looking north. They behaved as though they could see and hear something that we couldn't. Until the sun went down, of course, and then we could see it too." Charlie took a gulp of his tea. "You've seen the Aurora Borealis while at Hogwarts, right? Well, Scotland is about as far south as you're ever likely to see it. Except we've seen it over the northern nesting grounds for the last three nights."

Harry was stunned; so was Ron, judging by the gobsmacked look on his face.

"Katya and I reckon that it was probably wild magic, your magic, lashing against the wards you'd erected. It was a pretty spectacular display. I can see why Bunica insisted you go to a heavily warded area; I'd hate to think of the damage that amount of raw magic would have caused if it had got loose."

Harry slumped back in his chair. He felt the colour drain from his face. He shook his head slowly and said, "It almost did. It wasn't until I lowered my shields that I discovered just how badly damaged my core was. It could have shattered at any time..." His voice trailed off. He looked up as he felt a hand on his arm, to see Ron watching him with a worried expression on his face.

"But it didn't. And everything's fine now. So don't start beating yourself up about it, okay?"

Harry took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Ron was right. No point working himself up over might-have-beens. It didn't happen, and it never would, now.

"You're right, as usual," Harry said. His smile was a bit shaky, but Ron's heartfelt grin cheered him immensely.

"Of course I am!" Ron said.

Charlie merely rolled his eyes.

"I should go and see Katya. I promised I'd let her know the minute you two got back. Her grandmother's been worried about you, apparently."

Harry nodded at Charlie, who drained his cup then got to his feet. "I won't be long," he said as he headed to the front door.

-----

"Sorin!"

Charlie turned around to see Katya waving as she walked briskly towards him.

"I've just been down to the pens looking for you, and Nikolas told me that you'd gone home for a cup of tea. Bunica tells me that your brother is home again, and she insisted that I come and check that all is well."

"They're both fine," Charlie said with a grin. "You just caught me, actually. I was on my way to find you to let you know they'd returned. I know she was worrying."

"Hopefully now they are back things will settle down once more. I will return and set her mind at rest. Oh, and bring them to dinner tonight. Bunica says she must see them without delay."

With a brisk nod, Katya set off in the direction of her cabin, and Charlie turned around and headed back home.

He let himself in and shrugged off his jacket. The old lady had been on edge while Ron and Harry had been away, and it was all Katya could do to drag her away from her scrying bowl and crystals long enough to force her to eat something. Charlie wished he knew what was worrying her so much.

The door to the living room was half-open, and Charlie was just about to step through when he caught sight of Ron and Harry kissing near their bedroom door. Either he'd come in more quietly than he usually did, or they had been too wrapped up in each other to hear him. He was debating what to do next when he saw Harry push Ron away a little.

"Ron, Charlie's -"

But Ron apparently wasn't in the mood to listen, because he slammed Harry against the wall next to the bedroom door and began kissing him hungrily. Charlie's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't given it any real thought, but given Harry's magical strength he'd sort of assumed that he'd be the aggressive one.

Harry had obviously given up his token protest, as his arms came around Ron, one hand tangling in Ron's hair as they kissed desperately. Charlie swallowed and stepped further back into the lobby, embarrassed to find himself half-hard from watching his brother and Harry together.

"I really need to get laid," he muttered under his breath.

He stepped back quietly, gently opened the front door, then slammed it shut again. He kicked at one of the harnesses on the floor, making sure he made lots of noise, and then walked into the living room. There was no sign of Harry, and he caught of glimpse of Ron as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Katya's asked us to dinner again tonight," Charlie called out cheerfully. "Just popped back to let you know. I'm going down to the pens for a couple of hours. You two be okay here?"

"Yeah, we'll find something to do," Ron said as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, a glass of water in his hand. Charlie heard a loud snort through the half-open bedroom door, presumably from Harry.

"There's a chess set around here somewhere if you get bored," Charlie said with a straight face. "I'll see you later."

He turned and quickly left the house, ignoring the outraged voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother. His brother was a grown man and had a perfect right to choose his own bed partner. Charlie smiled wryly. Ron was a married man, if it came down to it. He felt a brief pang of sympathy for the boys. He'd have to talk to them about their plans for the future. Harry seemed to be fascinated by the dragons. Maybe they'd consider working on the Reserve; it was one of the few places where their relationship would be accepted. Charlie looked around as he heard someone call his name and saw Nick, one of the other handlers, struggling with a pile of leather harnesses. He put thoughts of his brother away and went to help his friend.

-----

Ron gave a happy, sated sigh as eased himself off Harry and slumped onto the bed next to him.

"When we get home, I'm keeping you naked and tied to the bed," he said as he nuzzled at Harry's hair before kissing him again.

"Sounds good to me," Harry said as he dragged the bedcovers up. He was sticky and sweaty, and the cold air in the room felt chilly against his skin. A quick cleaning charm sorted that out, though, and he nestled against Ron, smiling as Ron slipped an arm around him and pulled him close.

"Bloody handy that Charlie had to go back to work."

Harry gave Ron an amused glance and said, "He saw us, Ron. I felt him the moment he entered the house. He deliberately went back and slammed the door so we wouldn't be embarrassed, and he left to give us some privacy."

"You could have warned me!"

"I tried, if you remember, but you just pinned me to the wall and shoved your tongue down my throat. I tried to push you away, but you just got all forceful and held me in place."

Harry felt Ron suddenly tense as he said, "I shouldn't have...I wouldn't force -"

"You didn't," Harry said firmly, cursing himself for not remembering Ron's sensitivity about his size. He'd probably had to hold himself back, be so careful around the women he'd gone out with. Harry wondered if any of them had actually complained about Ron being too forceful; it would explain how touchy he could be about it at times.

Harry raised his head so that he could look Ron in the eye as he said, "You're a big bloke, mate, but do you really think you could force me to do anything I didn't want?"

Ron gave a soft, huffing laugh and shook his head.

"If it had been anybody else, they'd have found themselves naked in a pile of dragon dung, trust me. But there's nothing you could do that I wouldn't want, Ron. Nothing. Besides, I like it when you don't hold back. It's fucking hot, mate."

Harry smiled lazily at Ron, peering up at him through his lashes. He bit his bottom lip and winked, and was pleased to see a flash of arousal in Ron's eyes.

"Is that right? So you like it when I pin you to the bed and fuck you?" Ron whispered into Harry's ear.

"Oh, yeah," Harry breathed softly. Ron rolled them both so that Harry was pinned beneath him. He kissed Harry passionately, though the effect was somewhat lost when he had to break the kiss to yawn widely.

"C'mon, Casanova, we're both knackered," Harry said with a chuckle. "You can ravish me again later. After we've had some sleep."

-----

Ron yawned widely as his eyes fluttered open. He peered groggily about the room, wondering what had woken him from his much-needed sleep. He grimaced as his bladder made its displeasure apparent, and silently cursed his stupidity at drinking two large mugs of tea before coming to bed.

He yawned again, rolled onto his side, then smiled as he saw Harry sleeping peacefully next to him. Ron watched him for a moment, then dropped a soft kiss on his lips before climbing carefully out of the warm bed. He shivered violently as the cold air hit his skin, and quickly slipped on his dressing gown and shoved his feet into the sheepskin slippers Charlie had given him. He slipped as quietly as he could out of the bedroom and stumbled his way sleepily to the bathroom. By the time he'd relieved himself he realised that he was thirsty, which made an odd sort of sense, Ron thought. So he washed his hands and then headed into the kitchen to find something to drink. He found some juice in the cold cupboard and poured himself a glass, then wandered back out into the living room, put the glass on the end of the table and dropped into the nearest chair, yawning widely.

"Had a nice nap, did you?"

Ron's head shot up. Charlie was sitting at the other end of the table, grinning at him.

"Fuck! Where'd you come from? You frightened the life out me."

"I was sitting here the whole time."

"I'm still half asleep," Ron muttered. "What time is it?"

"Just after five. Katya's expecting us at six."

Ron nodded. "Er, thanks for earlier," he said. Charlie raised an eyebrow, and Ron explained, "Harry knew you were there - said you left to give us some time alone."

"'s okay, little brother," Charlie said. "You, er, seemed a bit keen, so I thought I'd better make myself scarce."

"Oh, God," Ron groaned. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," Charlie said smiling widely, obviously enjoying his brother's embarrassment. "So," he continued, "he gave you his family ring, eh?"

"You can see it?" At Charlie's nod, Ron said, "How did you know he gave it to me? You can't see it unless you know it's there."

"I might have accidentally overheard you talking about it the other night," Charlie said casually.

"Bloody hell, Charlie! Is privacy a concept that's passed you by?"

"Just keeping an eye on my little brother. Looking out for his interests." Charlie finished his drink, then said, "So, things okay with you two? He treats you okay and, er..."

Ron sighed. "If you've got something to say, Charlie, just say it."

"What? No, Ron, nothing like that. None of my business, is it?"

"No," Ron said firmly. "Look, Charlie, I'm fine, honestly. I've already had the third degree from Percy and -"

"Percy? Our Percy?" Charlie looked stunned. "You told him?"

"'course I bloody didn't. He worked it out for himself."

"Shit! What did you do?"

"Nothing. Talked to him. Convinced him that Harry didn't have me under Imperius and that I was happy, and that was that."

"You are kidding me," Charlie said slowly. "I'd have thought Percy would have been the first one to..." Charlie's voice trailed off, and he looked thoughtful. "Or maybe not," he said. "You remember Tom Pargett? Ravenclaw, same year as Percy?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Ron couldn't place it. He slowly shook his head.

"Percy didn't really get along with the Gryffs in his year. He and Tom used to study together in the library. Closest thing to a best mate he had, I reckon." Charlie fell silent.

"And?" Ron prompted.

"He died. Apparently there was some sort of mistake over a potion. Percy was devastated. He never believed it was an accident. And some of the things Percy let slip about him, well, I always wondered if..."

Charlie shook his head, looking thoughtful. Ron frowned.

"I'm not quite following you here, mate."

"Tom never had a girlfriend. And he used to talk to Percy about going Muggle once he'd finished school. Which is really odd, because he was a pure-blood, you know? Anyway, he'd been summoned home, Percy said. Something about a betrothal. And the next thing Percy heard was that he was dead."

Ron was suddenly vividly reminded of some of the things Blaise had told him, and his eyes widened as he realised what Charlie was getting at.

"Percy seemed absolutely convinced that his family had something to do with Tom's death," Charlie said. "He and Tom were really close, you know?"

"Oh! You thought him and Percy were -"

"No! Nothing like that. But I think he might have confided in Percy. And I know Percy had a blazing row with Mum when she said something tactless. Well, more tactless than usual." Charlie sighed and stood up. "Want a top up?" he asked, gesturing to Ron's glass. Ron nodded, and Charlie picked up his glass and headed out into the kitchen.

"You could be right," Ron said as Charlie handed him his drink and sat down. "About Percy, I mean. He did seem very calm about it all. Especially as he saw us in bed together, or so Harry reckoned."

There was a sudden thump and some muffled swearing, and a moment later Harry staggered out of the bedroom, squinting blearily around. He yawned widely as he dropped into the chair next to Ron, picked up Ron's glass and drained it.

Charlie burst out laughing. "Never knew having a nap could be so tiring. I think I'd better make some coffee," he said as he rose from the table.

"Sounds good," Harry muttered as he rested his head on his folded arms on the table. Ron slipped an arm around Harry and hauled him upright.

"C'mon, you. Shower and get dressed," he said cheerfully as he dragged a grumbling and protesting Harry into the bathroom.

-----

It was an apprehensive trio who knocked on the Director's door at six that evening. Katya welcomed them in, and cast an assessing gaze over Harry and Ron.

"You both look well. It is good. Come, sit, Bunica is anxious to see you."

Harry steeled himself as he sat on the couch next to the old woman. She immediately took his hand and held it, closing her eyes for a moment before nodding and smiling at him.

"It is done. Very good, Mage."

She placed a hand on his chin and tilted his head. Harry looked into her eyes, and suddenly found himself in the clearing of the nesting grounds once again. Standing in front of him was a young gipsy woman. Her long dark hair was a mass of wild curls under a brightly coloured kerchief, and her dark eyes shone with mischief. She grinned at him.

"You're a strong Legilimens, so it was easy to bring you into my head. We can speak privately here. Katya knows we are not to be disturbed."

Harry stared at the young woman in shock. She was wearing the same long multicoloured skirts and scarves as Bunica, but she could only have been about twenty or so, surely? She laughed gaily as she twirled on the spot, setting the dangling coins, necklaces and bracelets she seemed to be festooned with tinkling and sparkling in the bright sunlight.

"Oh, it is good to feel so young again, even if it is only in my head," she said brightly.

"Grandmother?" Harry blurted out in surprise. Then he blinked and stared at the young woman in confusion. That was not what he had meant to say.

"I didn't mean... I thought -"

"You thought that Bunica was my name, didn't you!" she said with an impish grin. "No. It is the Romanian word for grandmother. My name is Domka, Mage."

She took his hand and led him over to the campfire in the middle of the clearing. Low wooden stools were set around it, and a copper kettle was hung above it, whistling cheerfully. She pushed Harry towards one of the stools and set about making tea.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Harry asked. "Mage, I mean."

"Because that is what you are. A Mage," she replied.

"And a Mage is what? A powerful wizard or something?"

Domka looked up from her tea-making, surprise clear in her eyes.

"You do not know?" She shook her head quickly. "Of course you don't know, or you wouldn't have asked. You are right, in a way. A Mage is a very powerful wizard. But it is more than that. A wizard is bound by certain limitations: how much power he holds within himself, how many spells he knows and can perform and so on. You, on the other hand, draw your power from the very earth itself. You have no need of spells or incantations, as I'm sure you are aware. You have no limits. If you desire it, it is yours. If you will it, it is done. Anything you want. That is what makes you a Mage, young one."

"But that's... No, that can't be right," Harry objected quickly. Domka's words reminded him forcefully of his weaker moments. When the power would surge and twist and crawl beneath his skin, calling to him, its seductive whispering promising him everything he desired. And the temptation had been almost overwhelming at times... Harry shook his head quickly. No. He had healed the breaches in his core, and all that wild magic had surely bled away in the process. What was left was tamed. He was in control, now.

"No," Harry reiterated. "You're wrong. I admit that things got out of hand once or twice, but that was just because I had all of Voldemort's magic tangled up with my own, and a damaged magical core that couldn't cope. But I've mended it, now. And I admit that I'm probably still a lot more powerful than the average wizard, but I'm still just a wizard. I'm not what you're describing. I'm not a Mage."

Domka seemed to study him carefully before turning her attention back to her task. She poured out two cups of tea and handed one to Harry, saying, "Perhaps you are right, young one. Anyway, it is not important for now. We have other things to discuss today."

She settled herself on the stool next to Harry, took a sip of her tea, and said, "I brought you here because there are things that I need to explain to you. Since the time of my grandmother's grandmother's grandmother, we have been Seers. When I am gone from this world, Katya will bear the burden of this curse. And make no mistake, young one, a curse is most definitely what it is. The old ways have been lost, and the old knowledge was thrown away, so people no longer understand what it is to be a true Seer. They think it is someone who gazes into a crystal ball or scrying bowl and then makes a few vague pronouncements, or occasionally passes on the prophecy they've been sent." She shook her head in disgust, took a sip of her tea, and continued, "Most of them are charlatans."

Harry couldn't do anything but agree wholeheartedly. His Divination classes with Trelawney had been a joke. But all the same, she'd been right at least twice, hadn't she?

"They do make true prophecies though, don't they?"

"Ah, you speak of your teacher. She is not a Seer, but she is very susceptible to outside influence. She was used to report a prophecy, and to send you a warning. A waste of time, of course. Vague warnings never help."

"But... I thought -"

"Prophecies are not made by those who tell them. They are created by the Oracle and given to those who can best use them to guide the chosen whose lives they concern. They can be very useful."

Harry snorted in disbelief.

"Useful? Most of them don't make sense until it's too late. Would it kill the Oracle to provide a few hard facts? A bit of decent information that would actually be helpful? Do you know what it's like to have a prophecy hanging over your head, ruining your life?"

Domka reached over and gave Harry's hand a squeeze. She gave him a rueful smile and said, "You're not the first person to rage at the Fates in this way, young one. I wish it were that simple, I really do." She took another sip of her tea. "The future is not a track laid out for us. It is a piece of cloth, waiting to be woven. Time itself provides the threads for the warp, but Fate provides the weft. And therein lies the problem for Seers."

Harry must have looked as confused as he felt, because Domka picked up a stick and began scratching a simple diagram in the bare earth at her feet.

"Understand, young one, that this is merely a very inexact way to try and illustrate something that really defies description. Think of the long warp threads as your path to the future, and the weft threads that cross it as providing all the details of your life. But the particular cloth that life weaves is not flat and linear. It curls and twists about itself, and threads cross and recross each other constantly. Now, most threads are passive. They stay in little groups that happily go on their way; delicate threads that cross and entwine as people marry and have children and lead their mostly quiet lives."

She put the finishing touches to her diagram and then glanced up at Harry.

"Okay, that makes sense, I suppose," he said slowly.

She gave him a sharp nod and continued, "It is fairly simple for a Seer to determine where problems may arise in these lives, and to offer guidance should she deem it necessary. But most of us manage quite happily on our own, neither needing nor wanting such outside interference." She laughed softly. "People really don't want to know what the future may hold, no matter how much they think they do."

"Then why do so many people go to fortune tellers?"

"Because they're searching for hope, not the truth. Young girls want to be told that the husband of their dreams and the children they yearn for will be theirs. Those who have struck hardship want to know that the future will bring better fortune. They want platitudes, not harsh reality."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He thought of Lavender and Parvati in Divination class. They'd seemed to take it so seriously, but what would they have done if they had really been able to see the future? Would they really have wanted to know that Lavender's entire family would be killed by Death Eaters, or that Parvati would have scars on her face that she could never totally cover, no matter how good she was with cosmetic charms?

"But if people knew, they could change things," Harry protested.

"What would they change? You cannot see the pattern on a piece of cloth until after it has been woven. We do not See events, only signs that point to a particular pattern that will probably be woven involving certain threads that have caught our attention." She sighed. "Learning to interpret the meanings of these patterns is part of what we do. I am very old, and my skills well honed, and I can make fairly accurate predictions. I See threads cross and entwine, new threads form and old ones break, as is ever the way of mortal existence. I See the pattern that has been woven, and I know this cloth well, so I can make educated guesses as to how the pattern will continue. I recognise the beginnings and can predict the pattern to come. And I watch for signs of the pattern becoming disrupted..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the campfire.

Harry had the distinct impression that she was trying to find a way to tell him something that he really didn't want to hear.

"Everything I have said is true for almost everyone on this plane of existence. But there are some, a handful of individuals, for whom the rules do not apply. You are one such being, as is the one whose life and fate have been bound inextricably to your own from the moment of your birth. If you could see the threads, then maybe you would understand. They do not go quietly or smoothly. They are knotted and snarled, split and reformed again and again, and they twist throughout the whole cloth, touching and changing the course of thousands of threads - thousands of lives. They change the very shape of the cloth itself, puckering it here, smoothing it there. A Seer's eyes are drawn to such threads; you cannot avoid them. There are other threads such as yours, and it is the work of other Seers to bear witness to them. Your threads, though, I have taken as my own."

Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. He could feel a headache coming on, and the vague sense of foreboding was growing stronger.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to know. You need to understand the limitations on what I can do to help. You have been marked as a Chosen One and the dictates of prophecy have shaped your existence. And will continue to do so. Fate has not finished with you yet, young one."

Harry groaned. "Please tell me I'm not expected to get rid of another Dark Lord."

"Another? There is only one whose life is bound tightly with yours. But we have spoken enough for now. We will meet again tomorrow. We are both hungry and tired, and your bonded worries."

Harry felt dizzy and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them, and found himself once again sitting on the couch in Katya's living room. Domka was smiling at him, and it was suddenly strange to see her looking old and tired. He heard the sound of soft conversation, and saw that Ron, Charlie and Katya were sitting at the dinner table. Ron and Charlie were playing chess as Katya watched, and none of them appeared to notice as Harry stood and helped the old woman up from the couch.

"Katya, are you going to feed us tonight, or must we forage in the dragon pens?"

"You are a stubborn old woman and should have eaten first as I told you," Katya scolded as she jumped to her feet and quickly made her way over to her grandmother, helping her to the table and seating her carefully before disappearing into the kitchen.

"All right, Harry?"

Harry gave Ron a reassuring smile and a quick nod, but before he could go and sit next to him, Domka said, "Come. Sit with me and we will eat, young one. They have already eaten and wish to finish their game."

At that moment Katya came out of the kitchen, a large tray bobbing along in her wake. She tapped it with her wand, and immediately two large bowls of fragrant stew and a basket of hot, fresh bread jumped off the tray onto the table in front of the old woman. Harry pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.

"Eat. You must be starving," Katya said as he pushed a bowl of stew towards Harry. "You should both have eaten before you talked together. These things always take far longer than Bunica seems to think they will."

"She fusses over me like a broody dragon with a single egg," Domka said softly to Harry, who bit back a grin as he saw Katya glare at her grandmother.

"I'm sorry it took so long, Katya, but we were -"

"Discussing things they do not need to know," Domka interrupted firmly. "And we will continue tomorrow." Then she glanced up at Katya and added, "After lunch, obviously, so we do not grow faint from lack of nourishment."

And with that pronouncement she handed a piece of bread to Harry and took one for herself.

Harry shrugged, dipped his bread into the stew and started eating. The stew was wonderful. Harry hadn't realised how hungry he was, and he'd almost finished his meal by the time he noticed how quiet the room was. He looked up to see Ron, Charlie and Katya silently watching them, their game of chess apparently forgotten.

"Eat more bread, young one. You are all skin and bone," Domka chided as Harry put his spoon down.

He grinned and rolled his eyes, but picked up another hunk of bread and used it to wipe his bowl clean.

"So who's winning?" Harry said when he finally finished eating. "I don't know how good Charlie is at chess, but I'm sure he's more of a challenge than I am, Ron."

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion and he shook his head.

"Harry, you're speaking Romanian," Katya said. "He can't understand you."

"I - what?" Harry blinked rapidly. "No, I'm speaking English."

"You are now," Ron said, "but I couldn't understand a word you were saying before that."

"But I don't know how to speak Romanian." The moment he uttered the words he realised how stupid they were and quickly added, "Well, obviously I can, because I was. But I don't understand how it happened."

Domka tutted loudly, and Harry turned to her and said, "What's going on?"

"My English is poor, and therefore you needed to speak Romanian. So now you do."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. Now that it had been pointed out to him, he could tell that she had spoken to him in Romanian. Harry felt his stomach clench; it was far too similar to his experience with Parseltongue for comfort.

"That's not possible," Harry protested. "You can't just decide something like that and..." He paused, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "It was you. What did you do to me?"

Domka tilted her head; there was an odd expression on her face that Harry found unsettling.

"Me? I did nothing. You did this yourself. Despite your protests to the contrary, you will find that there are a surprising number of things that you are quite capable of doing, simply because you decide to do them." She paused, then added, "Mage." She stared at him a moment longer, then turned to Katya. "I am tired and need my rest. Goodnight."

Katya rose from her seat, but Domka waved her away as she slowly stood and took herself off to her room.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Charlie cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

"It's getting late. We should probably head off, too," Charlie said. "Thanks for dinner, Katya."

"Yeah, thanks," Ron echoed. "It was brilliant."

Harry nodded, smiling weakly at Katya, who patted his shoulder and said, "She is a stubborn, infuriating old woman. I know that better than anyone. But she is the only one who can answer your questions, Harry Potter. You would do well to listen to what she says."

Katya ushered them out, bade them all a goodnight, and reminded Harry to return the following afternoon. And it was a silent and thoughtful trio who walked through the cold, moonlit night back to Charlie's cabin.

-----

Note: Edited to meet rating. Original version available on my livejournal.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

--

"Weaving?"

"Well no, not weaving as such. She was using it as a way of trying to explain how she Saw things."

Ron dragged the heavy sweater over his head and dropped it onto the chair in the corner of the bedroom. "Makes sense, I suppose," he said as his shirt joined the jumper. "Yeah, I can see that. Fates and threads and stuff. So what else did she say?"

"That was it, really," Harry said as he slipped off his jeans.

Ron paused in his undressing and frowned. "You two were sitting like statues, staring at each other for nearly two hours, mate. She must have said more than that."

Harry shook his head. "It didn't seem that long, Ron. Honestly, I'd have said we were only talking for half an hour or so. Though I think she's building up to something, to tell the truth."

Harry shivered as he slipped off his boxers and jumped quickly into bed. The room was freezing so he had cast a warming charm on the bed, and he sighed happily as he snuggled under the covers.

"Budge over," Ron said, and Harry shuffled across as Ron climbed into bed next to him. The room was so small that the bed was shoved into the corner, still only leaving room for one bedside cabinet, one chair and a wardrobe.

"Bloody hell, your feet are like blocks of ice," Harry grumbled as Ron snuggled close.

Ron sniggered and planted his feet on Harry's legs as he slipped his arms around him.

"So what, you spent the rest of the time learning Romanian?"

Harry huffed loudly. "Right. Because everybody can learn a foreign language in an hour." He paused, then added, "Well, Hermione probably could. But the rest of us -"

"But you're not like the rest of us, are you, mate?" Ron interrupted. "I mean, you can do things that nobody else can, right? So I suppose if you wanted to learn Romanian, you could just decide to do it and that's that. Right?"

Harry was stung. Domka had said the same thing, and he'd argued with her, denying her words. And here was Ron stating it as though it were fact.

"No," Harry said sharply. "It's probably just some side effect of the Legilimency or something."

"But it doesn't work like -"

"Look, I'm really tired," Harry said, cutting Ron off. "_Nox._"

The room was plunged into darkness, and Harry tried to turn over, away from Ron, but Ron tightened his hold. "Don't," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Ron. I just..." Harry sighed and fell silent.

"It's okay. You'll tell me when you're ready," Ron said.

Harry felt Ron's hand ghost over his cheek, then Ron kissed him and whispered, "Sleep tight."

"Love you."

"Yeah, you too," Ron mumbled.

--

Harry lay awake, staring into the darkness. He had slept badly, his sleep filled with odd, fragmented dreams that left him feeling unsettled and unrested. It was probably far too early to get up, but he had given up on trying to get any more sleep. So he eased himself out of bed, put on his dressing gown and slippers, and quietly opened the bedroom door.

"You're up early."

Harry turned quickly and smiled as he saw Charlie sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. He quietly closed the bedroom door and made his way over to the table.

"Couldn't sleep."

Charlie summoned a mug and poured Harry a cup of tea. He pushed it towards him, saying, "Here, get that into you."

"Thanks," Harry said as he picked it up. He wrapped his hands around the mug, and took a sip.

"Ron's snoring a bit much, was it?"

Harry shook his head. "Things on my mind, that's all."

Charlie nodded placidly. He seemed to sense that Harry wasn't in the mood to talk, and ate his breakfast in silence, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

While it had been fairly easy to shrug off Domka's words, having Ron echo them had burst Harry's happy little bubble of denial. The old woman was only guessing, after all, based on what she had Seen. But Ron... Ron knew him, probably better than anyone else in the whole world.

Harry wasn't quite sure why he found it so unsettling to accept what Domka had told him. Whether he agreed he was a Mage or not didn't change anything, after all. Except... It was all a matter of perception, he supposed. While he could tell himself that he was just a normal wizard that had had a magical accident and survived with a few extra bits and bobs, the whole thing was somewhat less – terrifying. But he couldn't lie to himself, even if he had lied to her. He didn't need a wand, and though he occasionally used incantations out of habit, he didn't need those, either.

_You have no limits. If you desire it, it is yours. If you will it, it is done. Anything you want._

He took a gulp of his tea, swallowing against the nervous fluttering in his chest as Domka's words rang loudly in his thoughts. Truth be told, he had no idea exactly how powerful he really was, but the fact that he had yet to discover a limit didn't give him any hope that she had been wrong in her assessment.

But why him? That's what Harry didn't understand. Why had fate decided that Harry Potter was the best person to give unlimited magical power to? Harry had definite goals in mind, true enough. British wizarding society needed a lot of work to drag it kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Healing Bill had given Harry hope that perhaps the lycanthropy curse could be cured. And that was just the start. But yet... Anybody could do these things, and Harry couldn't shake the growing certainty that there was more to it than that. That he had this power for a reason. That he would need this power. Not someone else. Him.

Or possibly he was just being melodramatic. Although if someone with this level of power was needed, if there was some horrible disaster in the offing, then someone like Harry was probably the best person to wield it. He was often teased by his friends for his overactive conscience, and his saving people thing, but they would be very necessary attributes for a Mage, Harry felt certain of that. Because the potential for abuse was very real. He shuddered at the thought of Voldemort, or even someone like Scrimgeour, having access to that sort of power. It didn't bear thinking about.

Harry sighed and shook his head. He was sick of being different. Singled out. He just wanted a quiet, peaceful life. Was that so much to ask?

"I just want to be normal."

"Normal's boring."

Harry looked up in surprise at Charlie's words. He hadn't realised that he'd voiced the thought.

"Nothing wrong with boring," Harry said. "I like boring."

Charlie gave a huffing laugh as he shook his head. "If you say so, mate." He rose to his feet and added, "Well, I'm off. You couldn't do me a favour this morning, could you? Post comes in on Fridays. Can't have owls coming to the Reserve, obviously, so all the post goes to the village and they send it through the Floo on Friday mornings. Couldn't pick it up for us, could you?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Great. Katya's assistant sorts it, and it should be ready to pick up about half nine or so."

Charlie shrugged on his jacket, and with a cheery, "See you later," he headed off to work.

Harry showered and dressed and then made himself another cup of tea and a slice of toast, all the while expecting Ron to wander out and join him. But Ron remained stubbornly asleep. So Harry eventually decided to just leave him in bed and go and collect the post himself. It was still a bit early, but a brisk walk in the fresh air sounded like a good idea, and he rather hoped it would help to blow the cobwebs out of his tired mind.

--

"Harry?"

Ron stuck his head into the bathroom, peered into the kitchen, and then stood in the kitchen doorway, scratching his head. Charlie was presumably at work, but Ron had expected to find Harry in the cabin somewhere. His gaze swept the room once more and finally lit on a note that was propped up against the kettle in the kitchen.

_Gone to collect the post. Thought I'd let you sleep in.  
I'm sorry about last night.  
Love you,  
Harry._

Ron smiled and shook his head. Then he carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket. As love letters went it was pretty pathetic, but it was the first time Harry had written those words to him and he couldn't bring himself to throw the note away.

"Might as well get some breakfast, then," Ron muttered to himself.

Ron had only just sat down and begun to eat when he heard the front door open.

"That you, Harry?"

Harry smiled as he walked towards Ron. He dropped a small canvas bag on the table, gave Ron a quick kiss, then said, "You got my note?"

Ron nodded.

"I really am sorry, Ron. Last night, I shouldn't have been so -"

"Don't worry about it," Ron interrupted. "You were just tired and a bit grumpy. I'm used to it." Then he grinned and winked to soften his words, and Harry smiled gratefully back at him.

"Just made a fresh pot of tea," Ron continued. "If you fancy a cup."

"Yeah. Thanks," Harry said as he made his way out into the kitchen. He returned a minute or so later with a mug of tea in his hand and dropped into the seat next to Ron. Then he picked up the bag and tipped out its contents. A small pile of scrolls and a large packet fell out onto the table, and Harry began sorting through it.

"Anything for us?" Ron asked.

"Most of it, actually," Harry said, gesturing to a large pile. There were only two or three scrolls addressed to Charlie, and Harry put them back into the canvas bag. Then he picked up one of the scrolls from the pile in front of him and opened it. After a moment he said, "This one's from Hermione. She says thanks for her birthday present."

Ron swallowed a mouthful of toast hastily and said, "What? She shouldn't have opened it yet. It's not her birthday for another -"

"Two weeks," Harry interrupted. "And she hasn't. She's just thanking us for sending it to her."

Ron nodded. They'd found a set of ancient Egyptian papyrus scrolls for sale, and Bill had confirmed that they were authentic. Apparently, they were a text book, of sorts, on Arithmancy, written in hieroglyphics. Hermione would love them.

"She hopes we're well. Enjoyed her honeymoon, looking forward to seeing us when we come home," Harry said. He offered the scroll to Ron, who shook his head.

"I'll have a look at them when I've finished eating," he said.

"Okay," Harry said as he rolled the scroll neatly and dropped it next to Ron's plate. He picked up the next one and broke it open. After a moment he chuckled.

"Draco. Tells me I'm a sad tosser who needs to get a life and stop bothering him with stupid questions. Narcissa added a note thanking us for the bits and pieces we sent for the kids, and says everything's fine and not to worry."

"Miserable prick," Ron muttered. Malfoy still annoyed the shit out of him. He understood that Harry had to work with him from time to time, but Ron didn't have to like it. Or him.

"Oh! This one's from Remus and Tonks. They're fine. He's been to see your Dad and he's working with someone at the Ministry, going through all the legislation on Dark Creatures."

"Brilliant! That's really good news," Ron said.

Harry nodded absently, his attention focused on the scroll. After a moment he rolled it up and added it to the small pile next to Ron's plate. He burst out laughing as he opened the next scroll, and held it out to Ron, who put down his knife and fork and took the scroll. There were only two lines, written in a beautiful copperplate:

_Turn on your bloody phone, you incompetent Luddite!  
Everybody's fine, love B & M xx_

Ron sniggered as he shook his head.

"I forgot, all right?" Harry said defensively. "And anyway, I thought Blaise gave you a phone because he couldn't trust me to turn mine on?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, he did. But you haven't got round to casting the charms on it, yet, so it doesn't work."

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it," Ron said with a shrug. "You can do it later. If it had really bothered me, I'd have reminded you."

Ron picked up his knife and fork and started eating again while Harry opened the last scroll. He glanced quickly at it, and then held it out to Ron, saying, "This is from your mum."

"Just give me the edited highlights," Ron said as he speared the last piece of sausage.

"Okay. Um, Ginny passed her final exams with honours, and she's thinking about starting a private clinic with David. Fred and George are fine, and Lee's doing really well in the shop. Your mum's started organising Percy and Penny's wedding. They're getting married at the end of June next year... Oh, and your dad's doing well. Seems to be enjoying himself as Minister, according to your mum, though she thinks he's working too hard. She hopes we're enjoying ourselves, and she wants to know if we're eating properly and wrapping up warmly, because it gets cold here, apparently."

Ron rolled his eyes as pushed his plate aside and took the scroll from Harry's outstretched hand. He dropped it on top of the rest of the pile and said, "What's the package?"

"Looks like it's from Bill," Harry said as he handed it to Ron.

Ron tore the package open and pulled out a pile of photographs and a piece of parchment.

"Oh! Bill's sent us some photos of the Labyrinth," Ron said as he quickly read the short letter from Bill. "Said they couldn't have opened the door without our help, and thought we might like to see some of what they've found so far."

"That was nice of him," Harry said as picked up one of the photos. He smiled, then passed it to Ron, who grinned at the photograph of Bill waving madly at him from inside a small, beautifully furnished chamber. As Ron sorted through the photos, he recognised a lot of object that were similar to items that Bill had pointed out to them when they had visited the magical section of the Cairo Museum.

Ron suppressed a shiver as he remembered the day they'd spent underground in the maze. Bill had seemed surprised that they hadn't wanted to return and see what they had discovered, but Ron had found the empty rooms creepy enough. Seeing them fully furnished, but deserted, would be far worse.

The sound of the front door closing announced Charlie's arrival, and a moment later he walked into the living room.

"Great, you got the post," he said as he strode over to the table.

"I left yours in the bag," Harry said as he rose to his feet. "Want some tea?"

"I'd kill for a cup, thanks, mate," Charlie said gratefully as he dropped into his seat and picked up the post bag. He glanced at Ron, his eyes widening as he noticed the pile of scrolls and photographs on the table.

"Anything interesting?"

"Letter from Mum, and Bill sent some pictures of that underground maze he's working in," Ron said as he gathered the photos into a pile and pushed them towards Charlie.

Charlie visibly shuddered. "I don't know how he can work in those tombs and things. I'd feel like I was buried alive," he said. "I like being outside, in the fresh air."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, me too."

Charlie grinned widely at him. "Well, that's really handy, because you'll be working with me this afternoon. If you want to, that is. Katya dropped by to see me earlier and said that Bunica wanted to see Harry alone."

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry said as placed a mug of tea in front of Charlie. "Be a bit boring for you otherwise, Ron."

Ron nodded reluctantly. Not that he didn't want to work with Charlie. He was quite looking forward to that. He just didn't like the idea of leaving Harry alone with the Seer. Ron found her unsettling, and Harry had definitely been upset about something last night that Ron would bet was down to something she'd said.

"Great!" Charlie said enthusiastically. "I'll come back at lunchtime and take you two to the mess hall with me, and then we can drop Harry off at Katya's after lunch."

Charlie began opening his letters and Harry excused himself, muttering something about phones as he headed back to their bedroom, so Ron picked up the letter from his mother and started reading it. Harry had, indeed, given Ron the highlights, but there was one thing he'd failed to mention...

"Charlie?"

"Hmm?" Charlie looked up enquiringly.

"Mum asks how you are. She says she hasn't heard from you for a while, and as you're obviously too busy to write to her, she wants me to drop her a line letting her know what you're up to," Ron said with a smirk.

Charlie grimaced. "I'll write to her this weekend. Actually, if you and Harry want to write to anyone, do it over the weekend. We send the post off through the Floo to the village on Monday mornings and..." He paused and looked thoughtfully at Ron before continuing, "You and Harry could take the post if you wanted. Have a look around the village. Make a day out of it."

"Is there much to see?" Ron asked doubtfully. The Inn they'd Portkeyed into had been all but deserted, and had been dark and dour. Ron hadn't thought much of it.

"There's some shops and a small market – it's the biggest village for miles so it's quite busy. It's really picturesque, so I'd take your camera, and there are some nice handcrafts if you're looking for souvenirs to take home."

"Yeah, all right."

Charlie shot Ron a grin and said, "We'll talk to Katya about it when we drop Harry off, then."

Charlie turned his attention back to his letters, and Ron picked up his plate and mug and took them out to the kitchen. He dumped them into the sink, then smiled as he felt Harry step up behind him and slip his arms around Ron's waist. Ron turned in Harry's arms and kissed him. Then he wrapped his arms around Harry and held on tightly.

"You'll enjoy yourself with Charlie and I'll be fine, you know," Harry said softly.

"I know that," Ron said dismissively. "I still worry about you, though. You could get into trouble in an empty room."

Harry tilted his head back. A smile curved his lips as he looked into Ron's eyes.

"Always taking care of me," he said softly.

"Someone's got to."

Harry brushed his lips softly against Ron's and said, "I love you, too."

Ron slipped a hand up to cup the back of Harry's head as he kissed him. Harry gave a little moan and pressed himself more tightly against Ron.

"Missed you. Not used to waking up alone," Ron whispered.

"Woke up with a hard on, you mean," Harry said with a leer.

"That too," Ron agreed, dropping his hands down to cup Harry's buttocks.

"I've got to go - Oh, my virgin eyes!"

Ron's head shot up, to see Charlie sniggering in the kitchen doorway, his arm flung dramatically across his eyes.

"In what strange and bizarre universe is any part of you still a virgin?" Ron said dryly.

"Fair point," Charlie said, still sniggering. "I'm heading off now. I'll be back about twelve. See you later."

Ron groaned in embarrassment as Harry collapsed against his chest in a fit of giggles.

"I'm going to kill Charlie," Ron muttered.

Harry dropped a kiss on Ron's lips then took a step back. He took Ron's hand and said, "He's only joking."

Ron huffed loudly. "Yeah, I know. But it's still bloody embarrassing having him take the piss like that."

Harry stepped closer again, and Ron's eyes widened as he felt a hand cup his hardening erection.

"How about I take your mind off it, then?"

--

"Come through," the old woman said as she closed the front door and ushered Harry into the living room. "We will sit by the fire again. It is very cold today, and my bones are complaining."

Harry settled Domka on the couch, and then sat down next to her. He turned to face her, but before he could say a word she reached out, touched his cheek, and a moment later he found himself at the campsite once more.

"Can't we just speak normally? I mean, it's not like I can't understand you, is it?" Harry complained.

"This will ensure we remain undisturbed," Domka said as she set about making tea. "Katya pops in and out during the day, and I need to speak to you without interruption."

"Yeah, all right," Harry said grudgingly as took a seat next to the campfire. He looked around the clearing as he waited for Domka to finish her task. The sun was shining and it felt warm. He could smell the scent of pine trees on the breeze, and hear the sound of birds singing in the trees. He was idly wondering whose imagination had supplied those details when Domka drew his attention by clearing her throat.

She handed him a cup of tea, then sat down on the stool next to him. She looked pointedly at the cup Harry was holding, and he took a sip. It had a rich, smoky flavour which he found oddly soothing.

"Your bonded has made you understand what I could not, I see," she said after a moment. "You understand what you are, but you still do not really accept it."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Harry said tersely.

Domka gave an elegant shrug. "As you wish."

"So, what do you want to tell me?"

Domka took a sip of her tea, then said, "Today we speak of the past. The pattern is already there, and we can see it clearly. This does not necessarily mean that we will understand it, however," Domka cautioned. "I don't know how your part in the prophecy was explained to you, but it was not by luck nor was it chance that you were chosen. No matter how many others it could have applied to, it could only ever have been you who was set in opposition to the Dark One. Your threads, and only your threads, were already crossed before that Halloween night." She hesitated, then continued, "And as much as your mother loved you, and I'm sure she loved you very much, her sacrifice did not protect you. You survived on your own. It is important that you understand that."

"But Dumbledore said -"

"Many things, I am sure," Domka interrupted. "He cared for you, young one, but he was fighting a war and you were his weapon. That is not to say that he deliberately lied to you. But he placed his own interpretation on facts that he did not truly understand."

"You could be right," Harry said wearily. "But none of that matters any more, does it? The prophecy's old news, now."

Domka sighed loudly, and Harry felt a sudden, cold certainty settle on him.

"He's not gone, is he?"

"You know the answer to that question. You have always known," she said softly. "You will see him again. But before you do, there are things you must know."

"Things I must know? Like how the fuck to get rid of something that just won't fucking die!"

Harry felt something hot flare up in his chest, and a look of panic crossed Domka's face as she sprang immediately to his side, almost force-feeding him the herbal tea. As he finished the cup, he was surprised to feel himself growing calmer. She topped up his cup and encouraged him to keep sipping at it before sitting down again.

"Better?"

"Yeah. I didn't sleep well, and I feel really edgy and..." He shook his head ruefully, then held up the cup. "How does this work? I mean, it's not real."

"Just keep sipping it. I'm using a spell to mimic a Calming Draught, and you're administering it to yourself as you need it. You need to stay calm, for there are things I must tell you. Later, you may wish to get drunk and break things, but now you need to listen and understand."

"Okay, I just... I don't know why it hit me so hard. I mean you're right. I had a feeling he wasn't gone. I've been searching for him for over a year, actually, but I found nothing definite. And I've tried to tell a couple of people that I could trust, but they didn't believe me."

"I think that's because none of you really wanted to believe it. Even as you searched for him, you hoped you were wrong, did you not?"

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I wasn't really trying to find him as much as trying to find absolute proof that he really was dead." He huffed softly and shook his head. "Okay. He's not dead. So what did he do, and where is he now? Do you know?"

"No."

"Of course not. That'd be too easy, wouldn't it," Harry said bitterly.

"There are ways of shielding yourself from scrying, and a thousand things that naturally block it. It is virtually impossible to scry for information about either you or the Dark One, which is to be expected. Of course, that does not mean that I have been unable to attempt my own interpretation of events, only that I cannot See exactly what actions took place."

"So what can you tell me?"

"I can tell you what I Saw. I watched as he split his thread, and the pattern on the cloth grew dark and twisted as the split parts were scattered. I watched the pattern with some trepidation. Mortals cannot act thus with impunity. Your thread was strong and closely tied with others that increased your strength, and yet...

"The split thread of the Dark one crossed your path again and again. And each time it did, another of the scattered parts drifted back, until finally all seven parts were bundled together again. Not whole, but running in the same course. When I finally realised what was happening it was too late to act. And what would I have done, anyway? None could see the pattern and know that it wasn't what was meant to be.

"Then your threads met for the final time. It was as I expected, at first. His bundled thread snapped, signalling the end of his mortal existence. Your thread was frayed but unbroken, and suddenly much, much stronger. And it was tightly entwined with another. Then I Saw the new thread that had formed from that point. It was extremely perplexing, to say the least. What I was Seeing I had seen a thousand times before. But it did not make sense - not in that context."

Harry raised a hand in a quelling motion.

"Hang on a minute. I don't understand. You said the split threads bundled together again. But that's not possible."

"As I witnessed it myself, I would have to disagree."

"No, you don't understand," Harry snapped impatiently. "The things he created when he split his soul, the Horcruxes – we destroyed them. Completely. We destroyed the soul fragments."

A look of surprise crossed Domka's face as she said, "The soul is immortal, young one. You can shatter it into pieces, damn it with hatred or heal it with love, but you cannot destroy it. Whatever led you to believe that you could?"

An automatic denial rose to his lips, but the words died unuttered. He was in her head; her thoughts, her emotions surrounded him, and he knew that she was telling him nothing but the truth.

He felt utterly betrayed. How could Dumbledore have been so wrong? Was it simply a mistake on the old man's part, or had he deliberately lied to him? Something within Harry rebelled at the thought, however, and he cast around desperately for some way to rationalise the old man's actions.

"Maybe...maybe he believed that making a Horcrux made the soul fragment vulnerable, somehow. And what about Dementors? I mean, they eat souls, so thinking you could destroy them isn't so far-fetched, is it?"

"Dementors absorb a soul into themselves. They do not destroy it. Eventually they die and it is released."

"But -"

"It is possible that your headmaster did not know," Domka said gently. But there was something in her eyes, a knowing, that was suddenly more than Harry could bear. He'd known. He'd known and deliberately sent them on a wild goose chase that...

"Are you telling me that we spent four years tracking down Horcruxes, nearly getting ourselves killed in the fucking process, and all we did was give that bastard his soul back?"

"You could not defeat him unless all the parts of his soul were collected together. You did what you had to do and -"

"He fucking lied to me!"

With a sudden jerk, Harry found himself back in Katya's living room. Dumbledore had known, and had taken it upon himself to lie to him once again. Manipulating Harry to do what he wanted rather than simply telling him the truth. Did he think he was too stupid to handle it? Harry pushed himself to his feet, but a hand on his arm stopped him walking away.

"Running away solves nothing, and you have every right to be angry. But we must continue and we must do so in privacy."

Harry felt himself being pulled back into Domka's mind and his initial reaction was to resist. But Domka looked suddenly very old and frail, and Harry was deeply ashamed of his reaction. He could have really hurt her by pulling himself out of her head so abruptly. She was only trying to help him, after all. So with a sigh he allowed her to draw him back once more.

They sat in silence by the campfire, Harry sipping his mental Calming Draught, lost in his thoughts.

"If it helps, young one, I do not think your headmaster lied to you deliberately. He simply did not know or fully understand what he was dealing with. As you will appreciate, there is very little written about Horcruxes or what happens when a soul is split by Dark Magic. It was not an unreasonable assumption."

"He was guessing? Why the fuck didn't he tell me that?"

"What would you have done if he had?"

Harry opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. The only reason they'd hunted down the Horcruxes was because they'd been convinced it was the only way to defeat Voldemort. If Dumbledore had told him that he hadn't been sure, would Harry have allowed Ron and Hermione to risk their lives over and over to destroy them?

"The Horcruxes had to be destroyed if you were to have any chance of defeating the Dark One. He was only truly vulnerable once they were gone, and whether the soul fragments were destroyed or returned to him made little difference in the end."

Harry slowly nodded. "Yeah, I see that," he said eventually. "It's just..."

"I think he was trying to protect you, in his own way. To kill in cold blood is a difficult thing for most of us, but a possibility existed that that was what you would have to do. To put down something that is animated by a mere fraction of a soul is easier on the conscience, is it not? A mercy killing rather than a murder."

Harry took a sip of his tea as he stared into the campfire. Domka was right. That did sound like something Dumbledore would do. Even in battle, the thought of killing someone had filled Harry's soul with dread. And that was what had prompted his search for way to remove Voldemort without using the killing curse. But... Harry's head shot up.

"So, that day in Diagon Alley. All his soul fragments were in his body."

"Yes."

Harry groaned in frustration and scrubbed a hand through his hair. The ritual shouldn't have worked if the soul fragments hadn't been destroyed, yet it obviously had, because Domka had said that his thread had snapped, and everyone had seen Voldemort die. But without a surviving Horcrux...

"Then how the hell did he survive?"

"I don't think he did, young one. Not in the way you mean, anyway."

Harry resisted the temptation to bang his head against a tree, instead draining his cup and immediately topping it up again.

"First you say he's not gone, then you tell me you don't think he survived. So is he alive or not? He can't be disembodied, because there aren't any Horcruxes left." Harry rested an elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in his hand, and stared broodily at the old woman. "I don't understand."

"Listen carefully, young one. All I can tell you is what I have Seen. The last time your paths crossed, every strand in the Dark One's thread bundle snapped. When a thread snaps, a mortal existence ends. That is the way it is. No exceptions." She paused, and Harry nodded his understanding. "Now, something very strange occurred at this time. Your thread formed a knot with the thread of Sorin's brother. You bonded, married; whatever term you wish to use. It happened at the exact moment the split thread snapped. They touched, and touch still. But from that knot there are now three threads. Three lives, where there should only be two."

"Hang on a minute. I bonded with Ron in Diagon Alley? I thought it'd happened when I gave him my family ring. How the fuck did I bond with him in the middle of a battle? We weren't even together then."

"You will tell me what happened that day, then perhaps we will see," Domka said with a shrug.

Harry shook his head. "Look, I don't understand all this knot and thread thing. Just give me a minute, let me see if I've got it straight, okay?"

"If you wish."

Harry conjured a stick and began drawing imaginary threads with it in the dirt at his feet as he muttered to himself. After a moment he looked up and said, "Okay, let me see if I've got this straight. You said his threads snapped, so that means he died."

Domka nodded.

"But a new one appeared straight away, so you think he's come back in a new body, somehow?"

"It is the only explanation that fits. The new thread feels like the old one, in a way."

Harry nodded slowly again. Voldemort had somehow obviously managed to get another new body, but how? It seemed to be connected to what he and Ron had done that day.

"What happened that day in Diagon Alley?" Domka asked, seemingly picking up Harry's thoughts. "How was the Dark One to be vanquished?"

"We used an ancient ritual to cast out his soul."

Domka gave him an unreadable look. "You did, did you? And where did you find such a thing?"

"We didn't. Find it, I mean. Look, I should explain. We received anonymous information during the war. We never knew who our informant was, but he was always right. He gave us clues, helped us hunt down the Horcruxes; even tipped us off about a couple of Death Eater raids. Anyway, once we'd destroyed the last Horcrux, we received a scroll from our informant. It was a ritual. We couldn't translate it, but there was a letter with it, telling us what it did and how it worked."

"Explain."

Harry blinked, somewhat taken aback at the terse command.

"Well, basically the ritual healed a damaged soul. And I know that sounds absolutely insane, but it made sense at the time. You see, as far as we knew, we'd destroyed all but a tiny fragment of Voldemort's soul, right? And according to the letter our informant had written, performing the healing ritual would force that fragment out of Voldemort's body because it needed to be with all the other parts to heal. But because they no longer existed the soul fragment would have to pass on to the next plane of existence, because that was the only way it could be healed. Which would kill him. I had my doubts. It was too convenient, if nothing else. I mean, a simple ritual and he's gone. No duelling. No throwing Unforgivables about..."

"You say you could not translate the scroll. So how did you perform the ritual?"

Harry frowned. "That was another thing that seemed odd. The letter explained that if I ran my wand over the words, I'd hear them in my head. But it didn't work for either Ron or Hermione. I was the only one who could hear them. And then, of course, there was the potion."

"What potion?"

Harry saw a flash of some strong emotion pass over Domka's face; it was gone in an instant, but Harry's stomach dropped. There was something very wrong, here.

"We had to brew a potion for it." Harry licked his suddenly dry lips. "The list of ingredients and directions for brewing were on the bottom of the scroll. The ritual needed two people to cast it. One to chant the incantation, and the other to use a spell which apparently doused the subject in the potion at just the right point. Well, that's what we thought it did, at any rate. And we had to add our blood to it just before we used it."

Domka slowly shook her head. "You performed a blood ritual without knowing exactly what it did?"

The tone of voice and the look on her face took him back to a cold, dank bathroom in Hogwarts. Malfoy lying on the ground, bleeding heavily, and Snape glaring at him with the promise of painful retribution in his eyes. He'd deserved the derision then, and he deserved it now. Unfortunately, detention and losing housepoints wasn't going to cut it, not this time.

"We thought we knew. We had no reason to suspect..." Harry sighed in defeat. "You're right. Something told me that we shouldn't do it, but I let myself be talked into it. How could I have been so fucking stupid?"

Domka raised an eyebrow. "Your stupidity isn't the issue. The Dark One baited his trap very well. You had no reason to suspect his true motives."

Baited his trap? Harry had no idea what she meant. He hadn't... And then it hit him. Their supposed spy. The anonymous contact that they had slowly come to trust. Who had provided so much useful information. They'd never discovered who it was. It couldn't possibly...

"You had no way of knowing, young one."

"No. No, you must be wrong. I mean, why on earth would he do something like that? It's an insane idea."

"Not at all. After all, how else was he going to persuade you to perform a blood ritual of your own free will?"

And there it was. The one, irrefutable fact that made it plausible. Harry felt suddenly sick. Because it made sense, and the more he considered the idea, the more likely it became.

"But why, though? Why did it have to be me? Voldemort had any number of followers who'd have willingly cast a blood ritual for him, if that's what he needed. I mean, I know there was something wrong with him. We had information, reliable information, from someone I knew personally and trusted."

_Not until you'd watched the poor bastard tortured to death_, his conscience savagely reminded him.

Harry took another gulp of the tea, and continued, "Snape... My informant told me that Voldemort was growing weaker, and that's why he never left his stronghold. That's why we jumped at the chance when we knew he'd be leading the Diagon Alley raid, of course, because -" Harry stopped abruptly, then gave a humourless chuckle. "Fuck, we were idiots."

"No," Domka said firmly. "You were manipulated by a very clever and very desperate man."

"Desperate," Harry echoed. "He was that, all right; according to Snape, anyway. But why didn't he just stay in hiding? That's what I don't understand. If he'd kept his head down and stopped the raids for a year or two, the Ministry would have been more than willing to sweep it all under the carpet. Everyone would have forgotten that he was a threat. He'd have had all the time in the world to do whatever he needed to regain his strength. So why go to all that effort..." Harry's voice trailed off as he shook his head in frustration. It simply didn't make sense.

Domka tilted her head as she stared at Harry reproachfully.

"Would you have forgotten about him? Remember, young one, that you are the only one who really matters. You are the only one who can defeat him. But there is more than that. Surely you can work out what he gained. Think of the threads. What was his existence like?"

"A half-life," Harry said softly, almost to himself. "His body was failing. Dark magic rituals were the only way he could sustain himself and it was only a matter of time before even they stopped working..." He shook his head. "So what happened? What did the ritual actually do? Do you know?"

"I cannot be certain. Your informant, whoever he may have been, did actually tell you the truth, in a way. A soul as badly damaged as his, particularly as he used Dark Magic to fracture it, cannot be healed on the mortal plane. So it passed on, and was healed. It's what happened next that is of concern to us, however. A soul healing is Light Magic and does not require a blood ritual. That part, I believe, is what enabled his soul to immediately return to this mortal existence once more."

"Shit!"

Domka chuckled. "I could not have put it better myself. But that is enough for now, young one. I need to rest, and you need time to think."

"Right," Harry said absently. A tap on his arm drew his full attention back to the present. "Do you want me to come back tomorrow?"

"No. You have been here a week and have yet to ride a dragon, so Katya tells me. That is what you shall do this weekend. Enjoy yourself. Come and see me next week sometime, when you are ready to continue."

Harry eased himself out of the old woman's mind as gently as he could, but felt a rush of guilt as he saw how pale she looked.

Domka tutted at him, however, and said, "Not everything in this world is your fault, young one. I am simply old. Now, help me to the kitchen. I need a potion for my headache."

Harry helped the old woman to her feet, then slipped an arm around her and slowly walked her into the kitchen. At her direction, he opened a cupboard and drew out a potions phial, and Domka quickly drained it, giving a little sigh as colour began to return to her cheeks.

"Better," she said. Then she placed a hand on Harry's arm and continued, "You have had unwelcome news, today, and there is more to come. Go home. Get drunk. Rage against the Fates. Then, when you have made your peace, we will talk again."

Domka patted his arm, then turned and slowly shuffled her way out of the kitchen. Harry huffed softly as he made his way to the front door. She was right, though. He definitely needed a drink. He shrugged on his cloak, closed the front door firmly behind him, and made his way back to Charlie's cabin.

--

"I ache in places I didn't even know I had bloody muscles. I need a hot shower, and a large pain potion," Ron said as he slowly trailed Charlie up the stairs to the cabin.

"No stamina, you kids," Charlie said with a grin as he pushed the door open. "Dump your stuff here and go have a hot shower. I'll put the kettle on."

He chuckled as Ron stiffly made his way into the bathroom. He'd actually done really well, not that Charlie was going to admit that any time soon. He put the kettle on, and as he reached for the cups he noticed that one of the cupboard doors was ajar. He frowned. He kept the Firewhisky in that cupboard, and it had definitely been closed earlier. He crouched down, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw why the door was ajar; there had to be at least twenty bottles of Firewhisky crammed into the small cupboard, and a couple were teetering precariously on the edge of the shelf, preventing the door from closing. Charlie took four bottles out of the cupboard, leaving enough room for the door to shut, and placed them on the kitchen bench.

Charlie frowned as he looked at the bottles. They were all Ogdens Special Reserve, the most expensive Firewhisky you could buy. Yet the last time Charlie had looked, the cupboard had contained only two bottles of Ogdens Old and a bottle of the local plum brandy. He had no idea how... Charlie's thoughts stuttered to a halt as his stomach sank. Harry.

Charlie quickly stepped out of the kitchen and looked around. Seeing no one in the living room, he knocked on the door to Harry and Ron's bedroom. Hearing nothing through the door, he turned the handle and eased it open.

"Oh, bugger."

Harry was curled up on the bed, fast asleep or passed out. Probably the latter, judging by the small amount of whisky left in the bottle Harry was still clutching.

"Fucking brilliant," Charlie muttered.

After making sure Harry was propped on his side so he wouldn't choke himself if he threw up, he grabbed a set of clothes that he thought were probably Ron's and headed back out into the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Ron was still in the shower, so Charlie shouted through the door that he'd left a set of clothes on the floor outside the door for him, and then set about making a pot of tea. As worried as he was about whatever was going on with Harry, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Trying to talk to Bunica was a waste of time. She wouldn't tell him a thing. He poured two cups of tea and carried them over to the table.

Charlie had finished his tea and poured himself another cup before Ron finally emerged from the bathroom. He seemed to be moving more fluidly, and wasn't wincing as he walked, so the hot shower had obviously done the trick. He dropped into the chair next to Charlie and took a gulp of tea.

"That's better." Ron glanced quickly around the room. "Harry not back yet?"

"He's in the bedroom, but let him be for a minute, Ron. I need to talk to you first. Has he said anything about what he's talking to Bunica about?"

"No, not really. He said she was trying to explain to him how prophecies work, and what a Seer can and can't do. He seemed a bit upset about something, and said that he thought she was building up to -" Ron's voice broke off abruptly and he quickly stood up and strode towards the bedroom. Charlie jumped up and took off after him, only to collide with Ron's back as he stood frozen in the open doorway.

"Oh, Harry, what the fuck did she say to you?" Ron said softly as he made his way over to the bed. He sat next to Harry and gently stroked his hair.

"Probably best to let him sleep it off."

"Yeah. Look, I'll be out in a minute, okay? I just want to make him more comfortable; get him into bed."

"Do you want a hand?"

"No, I can manage. Thanks."

--

Neither of them was in the mood for company, so Charlie decided to just make a simple stew and bread for dinner. He tried several times to get Ron to talk to him, but eventually gave up. They ate their meal in silence, Ron only eating a few mouthfuls before saying he wasn't hungry. He took himself off into the bedroom to watch over Harry, and Charlie was just toying with the idea of breaking out his chess set in an effort to tempt Ron into a game, when there was a loud knock at the door. He shouldn't really have been surprised to see Katya standing on the doorstep, carrying a small bundle. He ushered her in and sat her down by the fire.

"Sorin. I have some things here from Bunica. She was concerned about Harry. She won't tell me what they talked about, obviously, but she said the things he needed to know would be very hard for him to deal with."

Charlie sighed loudly and rubbed his hands over his face.

"He'd drunk himself unconscious by the time Ron and I got back from the pens. Ron's worried sick about him. This isn't like Harry. He doesn't fall to pieces like this. I don't know what the hell Bunica said to him, but I really hope she's got some ideas on how to help him."

"She was quite upset herself." Katya sighed tiredly. "She's old, and worn out, Sorin. She should be resting at her age. But she simply says she can't. That she has responsibilities and that they are at a critical stage now. But I do not see how that can be. Harry, he has defeated this Dark Lord already, yes? So what can be so important?"

"I don't know. But if they're both that upset about it, it can't be good."

"No. And that worries me, Sorin. That worries me greatly." Katya shook her head. "But there is no point in dwelling on things we cannot change." She opened the bundle and placed two phials and a small box of herbs on the small side table next to her chair. "Bunica has given me instructions, which I must give to you. Harry must take these potions when he wakes up, and then drink a cup of this herbal tea."

Charlie examined the phials: Headache Potion and Calming Draught.

"It seems like she had a fair idea of how he'd react, anyway."

"So it would seem. Well, I have played post owl, and now I must go. Bunica tells me that they still have much to talk about, but that she wants Harry to take a few days to relax."

"Bloody hell. Well, let's hope she hasn't got any more bombshells to drop on him. I'm running out of cupboard space."

Seeing the look of confusion of Katya's face, Charlie said, "Have a look at this."

He led her out into the kitchen, and her eyes widened as she saw the Firewhisky.

"I knew you liked the occasional drink, Sorin, but this -"

"No, no," Charlie said with a chuckle. "I found this lot when I got home this evening."

"Ah. Harry."

Charlie nodded. "Any ideas on what I can do with it all? I thought it might be useful for the fundraiser."

"It would certainly be very welcome," Katya said as she picked up a bottle and examined the label. "Oh, my! We will save this for those we really wish to impress!" She put the bottle down and turned to Charlie. "Where do you think he got it?"

"No idea."

They shared a glance, and Charlie felt certain that Katya thought as he did; that Harry had simply conjured the lot. Probably while drunk, in an attempt to replace the bottle of Charlie's whisky that he'd taken. A speculative look crossed Katya's face, but then she quickly shook her head.

"No, that would be taking advantage."

Charlie fought back a grin as he realised his boss had toyed with the idea of asking Harry to conjure the drinks for the fundraising party and then dismissed the idea.

"It would," he agreed. Then suddenly remembering his manners, he asked, "Would you like some coffee?"

"Thank you, but no. I really must get back to Bunica."

"Thanks for bringing that stuff over for Harry," Charlie said as he saw Katya to the front door.

Katya waved a hand dismissively. "It was no trouble." Then she placed a hand on Charlie's arm and gave it a squeeze. "Do not worry. Harry is strong, and your brother will protect him, even if it is from himself. Goodnight, Sorin."

"Sleep well, Katya."

--

Harry groaned. His head was pounding and his stomach was protesting violently. Cool hands gently raised his head and nudged something against his mouth.

"Drink up, mate."

He obediently swallowed the potion. And the next one, washing them down with sips of cool herbal tea. The hands eased him back to the pillow, and Harry drifted off to sleep again.

The next time he woke up, he felt much better. He opened his eyes and saw that Ron was lying on the bed, fully dressed, next to him. He was snoring softly, a Quidditch magazine open on his chest.

Harry lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He was surprised to find that he really did feel fine. He'd had this nagging worry at the back of his mind, somehow certain that Voldemort had survived their allegedly final confrontation, yet having nothing solid to base it on. Now he knew, and felt something oddly like relief. Granted, he'd drunk himself into a stupor and vividly recalled raging and cursing against the Fates, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, stupid fucking prophecies and the world in general, but now that was all out of his system. All he had to do was track down and destroy a Dark Lord. Again. But that was okay. He knew how to do that. And this time he was ready. This time he had the power. This time he'd do it right.

"Ron?"

Ron yawned, and then his eyes fluttered opened. "Are you all right? You had me worried, mate."

"I'm fine, Ron. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get totally ratarsed and -"

"It's okay. Katya brought over some potions from her grandmother last night, so she must have told you something that really upset you. I gave them to you when you woke up earlier." Ron gave Harry a searching look, then said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I will tell you," Harry said. "But I could do with a shower and something to eat first."

"Oh! Of course you could. I'll get you some lunch while you have your shower, okay?" Ron said as he climbed off the bed.

"Yeah. Thanks, mate."

--

Harry pushed his plate away, aware of Ron's watchful gaze. He picked up his tea, took a sip, then said, "She told me that Voldemort's still alive."

Ron's eyes widened. "But... But that's not possible, Harry. I mean, I know you kept saying you didn't think he was really gone, but we -" He snapped his mouth shut, and Harry saw his cheeks redden.

"You thought I was imagining it, or obsessed or something. I know," Harry said wearily. "I've heard it all from Hermione. And I don't blame you. All I had was this irritating bloody certainty that he was still alive nagging away at me. It was driving me nuts, to be honest. I've, um, actually been looking for him for a while, now. Haven't had any luck, obviously. Found a lot of very dead Inner Circle members, but that was it."

"You what!"

Harry sighed. "Look, I -"

"No," Ron interrupted. "You've been hunting down Death Eaters and you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't like that," Harry said defensively. "I wasn't hunting Death Eaters. I was trying to find evidence that Voldemort was still alive. I tried to tell you and Hermione but you thought I was off my trolley."

Ron huffed loudly. "Of course we bloody did! I saw it. He blew up." Ron closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. With a sigh he opened his eyes again and said, "Look, I know you think that he survived somehow. But honestly, mate, I just don't see how that's possible. I mean, I know the old lady's a Seer, but so's Trelawney, and if she told me it was raining I wouldn't believe it until I looked out the window for myself."

"Trelawney's not a true Seer, Ron. Not according to Domka, anyway."

"Who's Domka?"

"That's Katya's grandmother's name. Domka."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Okay. But I still -"

"Ron. Not now, mate. Please. I've got to go and see her again. I'll ask her to talk to you, explain it, okay? Just - just take my word for it, will you? There's things you don't know, and I really don't want to get into all that right now. I will tell you, I promise. But not now. I have to go."

Harry stood up, took a couple of steps towards the door, and then turned and walked quickly back to the table. He hauled Ron to his feet, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. Ron held himself stiffly for a moment, but then seemed to forgive Harry as he slipped his arms around him and kissed him back.

"I love you, Ron, and from what Domka's told me so far, you're right in the middle of all this. I need to find out everything I can from her, and then I'll tell you everything, I promise. But she hasn't told me all she knows, yet."

Ron sighed, then gave a reluctant nod.

"Oh, you're up then, Harry," Charlie said as he strode into the room. Harry tried to step away, but Ron tightened his hold.

"Tonight. You tell me everything you know tonight, right?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah. I promise."

Ron kissed him fiercely, then stepped away.

"I'll see you later," Harry said as he made for the front door again.

As he was leaving, he heard Charlie ask, "What was that all about, then?"

He closed the door and started walking.

--

Harry took a deep breath. He raised his hand to knock at the door but it was suddenly whisked open, and Katya stood in the doorway.

"Bunica is expecting you," she said. "Come in."

Katya ushered Harry into the living room. Domka was sitting on the couch by the fire, and she smiled up at him.

"So impatient," she said. "You need some time to relax, young one."

"Yet you were expecting me."

Domka nodded. "I wouldn't be much of a Seer if I could not have predicted this, now would I?"

Harry laughed softly. "No, I don't suppose you would."

"You are at peace with it now."

"I don't know that that's exactly how I'd describe it," Harry said. "But I suppose I've come to terms with it."

"Good. Well, now you are here and are obviously determined to ignore my advice, we might as well continue. Sit down."

Harry sat next to the old woman, and as she reached out to him, he said, "Can't we just talk without -"

And he was suddenly in the nesting ground campsite once again.

"No. It is safer this way. No one can discover what takes place in my head. You do not yet understand what you have done, or how disastrous it would be if others discovered certain facts. You must keep your thoughts guarded and confide in no one."

And suddenly Harry heard another voice, shouting at him: _Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!_

Domka tilted her head. "Good advice. Did you heed it?" she asked. At Harry's startled look, she explained, "We are meeting mind to mind. A memory of such clarity demands to be witnessed." She gave him a searching look, then nodded slowly. "A harsh life with a bitter end. But he has peace, now, and watches over those he loves." Her gaze took on an unfocused look, and then she laughed softly. "A dark sense of humour. He would find it amusing, I'm sure."

Harry blinked rapidly as a flash of something dark, the fluttering of wings, crossed his mind and then vanished again. He was about to ask Domka what it meant, but she'd already walked away from him and was pouring out tea from the copper kettle.

"Sit, young one. It is time to talk once more."

Harry sat on one of the low stools and took the cup that Domka passed him. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Okay. So he's tricked us into fixing his soul and has somehow managed to get himself a new body. But what good would it do him? How would he transfer his knowledge? Is it retained in the soul somehow, or had he already created a body beforehand and transferred his knowledge? And what about -"

Domka raised a hand. "Enough. We know none of this for certain. Remember that. I am doing what I can to find the answers, but it will take time. Of one thing I am absolutely sure, however; there is no great hurry. We have time. Now, I must ask you. Do you have the scroll that you used for the ritual?"

Harry nodded sharply. "It's in my vault at Gringotts. Do you need to see it?"

"Yes. Can you get it?"

"I'll go and get it now." Harry rose to his feet, but Domka caught his arm and pulled him down into his seat again.

"Later will suffice. I have some things I need to know first. Tell me about the day you performed the ritual. How did it come about? What happened?"

"I'm pretty sure Voldemort planned the timing of it. Halloween, 2001. The anniversary of the day he attacked and killed my parents." Harry paused as a surge of anger caught him off-guard. Taking a calming breath, he continued, "He taunted me. Told me to say hello to them. Bastard." He fell silent, staring into the campfire as he remembered that day. "He hadn't been on a raid in almost two years, and then we got a message saying he'd be leading the attack on Diagon Alley. We couldn't believe our luck." He huffed softly. "So fucking gullible. I can't believe we were so..." He shook his head. "Anyway, we were ready, or so we thought. We'd prepared the potion, and I'd memorised the incantation. I could have recited it my sleep I'd practiced it so often. Both Hermione and Ron practiced the other part of the ritual, just in case. Hermione was going to cast it, and Ron was going to provide cover and backup. But just as we were getting into position, Hermione was attacked and stunned. So -"

"How did that happen?" Domka interrupted.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied slowly. "Everyone seemed to be ignoring us. I'd assumed Voldemort had told them we were off-limits or something. He'd ordered his Death Eaters to leave me for him to deal with himself enough times before, so I didn't question it. And then a hex came out of nowhere and down she went."

"She was deliberately removed, I think," Domka muttered. Then she looked at Harry and said, "She would be the obvious first choice to perform the ritual with you, yes?" At Harry's somewhat mystified nod, Domka continued, "And she is Muggleborn, I know. Some would say of dirty blood. You and Sorin's brother are of clean blood. Pure."

Harry's brow furrowed. "My mum was Muggleborn, so I'm a half-blood, really."

She shook her head. "Both your parents were magical, and your father was of an old and revered family. You are a pure-blood, young one, in the true meaning of the term."

Harry made in impatient gesture. "Does it matter? It's not important."

"Not to you, that is obvious. But to others it is vitally important. And it would certainly matter to him."

Harry thought it was overkill to worry about the purity or otherwise of the lineage of a few drops of blood in a potion that would touch your skin, but then Voldemort wasn't exactly rational on the subject. He nodded. "You could be right."

Domka gave him an unreadable look, and opened her mouth as though to say something, then stopped. She took a sip of her tea, then said, "So, your friend is unconscious. What happened next?"

"Ron and I added three drops of blood each to the potion, then rocked it gently until it turned silver -" He stopped at a sudden exclamation from Domka, but she gestured for him to continue. "Then I started chanting."

"What did the Dark One do?" Domka was leaning forward, her eyes glittering.

"Nothing. He just stood there, taunting me."

Domka nodded. "Then what?"

"Ron did his bit, and Voldemort started glowing. Then he dissolved."

Domka fixed him with a look that wouldn't have been out of place on Professor McGonagall's face when handed a particularly unsatisfactory piece of work.

"I need to know everything that happened," she said firmly.

Harry sighed. "Right. Fine. It's like this..."

He'd finished two cups of herbal tea by the time he came to the end of his story. Domka had demanded every detail, every theory, every random thought he'd had, or so it seemed to Harry. He sagged in his seat by the time she declared herself satisfied.

Finally, she stood up, saying, "That is enough for today. Bring me the scroll tomorrow. I need to examine it."

Harry nodded and rose to his feet.

"Oh, and you will be free next Saturday night," Domka said with a grin.

And then Harry felt the dizzying sensation that meant he was being pushed out of Domka's head. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to see Katya hovering over them both. She immediately helped Domka to her feet and led her to her room, calling over her shoulder to Harry that he should wait for her. He saw that there was a pot of coffee and some cups on the coffee table, so he helped himself to a cup while he waited.

"She looks so tired after our talks," Harry said as Katya took her seat again. "I'm sorry that -"

Katya raised her hand in a quelling motion. "There is nothing for you to apologise for. She is old, and we all worry about her. But this is her life, her work, and she does what she must." She took a sip of her coffee, then said, "I did not ask you to wait so that I could scold you, Harry. I wished to speak to you about next weekend. I had planned the fund-raising reception for next Saturday evening. But with everything that is happening I'm wondering if I should postpone it?" She shrugged, and gave Harry a questioning look. He chuckled.

"So that was what she meant," he said. "But... How on earth did you organise it so quickly?"

Katya looked confused. "But we knew you were coming to visit two months ago, Harry."

"Oh! Right. Didn't think of that. But -"

"And Bunica told me that you would agree to attend," Katya continued. "She is never wrong about these things."

"So I've heard," Harry muttered. "Right. So, um, what do I need to do?"

"Very little, I promise. Eat, drink, enjoy yourself. If you could stress the importance of our research, and tell the influential people who will doubtless desire to meet you how much you love dragons, and our reserve in particular, it wouldn't hurt."

"No problem," Harry said with a grin.

"Dress robes, of course, and if you could wear your Order of Merlin?"

"Dress to impress. Got it. Anything else?"

Katya chuckled and said, "I'll let you know if I think of anything."

"Fair enough." Harry got to his feet. "I have to go and get something from London that Domka needs to see, so I'd better head off. I'll be back again tomorrow."

"But just to drop off the scroll. I've authorised a dragon ride for you, tomorrow."

Harry's face lit up. "Really? Brilliant!"

"Of course! You are here on holiday, after all. You will ride a dragon tomorrow, and on Monday you spend the day in Crastu with Ron."

"But -"

"Bunica needs a rest, too," Katya said firmly "It will do you both good. Now go home and relax."

His talk with Domka occupied Harry's mind as he walked slowly back to Charlie's cabin, but it wasn't until he arrived at the front door that he remembered the first thing she'd said to him: _You do not yet understand what you have done,_ _or how disastrous it would be if others discovered certain facts._

He shivered as he recalled the words. She knew something, or more likely suspected something, that she was keeping from him. Well, he was used to that. Whatever it was, he'd find out. One way or the other.

--

_Snape's quote from HBP_.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

--

Ron tightened his grip on Harry's hips as he withdrew and then slowly slid home once more. The little moan he gave, and the way Harry shuddered beneath him, were almost enough to make Ron give up his teasing and give Harry what he so obviously, desperately wanted. Almost, but not quite.

"Please, Ron."

Harry let go of the old wooden headboard, but Ron's hand shot out, took Harry's hand and replaced it firmly.

"No," Ron said. "You leave your hands where they are or I'll stop."

Harry made a desperate, mewling sound and pushed back, but Ron held him firmly in place.

"Bastard."

Ron chuckled. "You said I could do anything I wanted, and this is what I want. Do you want me to stop?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right then."

Ron withdrew slowly, then made an appreciative humming noise as he sank back into the hot, tight body beneath him. Harry gave a little whimper, and Ron released his hold on Harry's hips and slid his hands around, running them slowly over Harry's chest and stomach, stopping only to pinch and tease his nipples as he kissed and nibbled the back of Harry's neck.

Harry shuddered and rocked back against Ron, who withdrew and thrust in slowly, again and again, driving them both closer and closer to the edge, until Harry was pleading incoherently and Ron's restraint was at breaking point. Then he slipped his hand down and wrapped it firmly around Harry's cock.

"Now," Ron ground out between clenched teeth as he quickened his pace, his hips snapping as he drove fiercely into the welcoming body quivering under him.

Harry stiffened as he came almost instantly, pulling Ron's orgasm from him as he bucked against him, and they finally slumped in a sated heap, gasping for breath.

Ron eased himself away from Harry and rolled onto his back.

"Fucking brilliant," Harry said after a moment.

Ron felt a tingle on his skin that told him Harry had just cleaned them up, and he reached over and hauled Harry into his arms.

"I am, aren't I?"

Harry snorted. "Modest, too."

"When you've got it, flaunt it," Ron said with a grin. Then he reached down and dragged up the bedcovers.

The candle above the bed guttered and went out as Harry muttered, "I'm knackered."

"Yeah, I could sleep," Ron agreed. He dropped a kiss on Harry's brow then closed his eyes.

--

When Harry stumbled out of the bedroom the next morning, he was surprised to see Katya sitting at the dining table, talking to Charlie.

"Bunica sent me," Katya said before Harry could even say good morning. "She said you have something for her."

"Oh! Right, hang on a minute."

Harry went back into the bedroom and picked up the scroll that he'd taken from his vault the evening before. It had several preservation spells on it already, but Harry added another couple before placing it in a box and taking it out to Katya.

"Good, I'll give it to her," Katya said. She drained her coffee cup and stood up. "Have fun today," she added with a grin. "Your first dragon ride is an unforgettable experience."

Charlie saw her out as Harry poured himself a cup of coffee. He sighed happily as he sipped the rich, strong brew, feeling his head clear almost instantly.

"Katya asked me to remind you about dress robes for next weekend. I don't suppose you brought any with you?" Charlie asked as he sat down next to Harry.

"No, but that doesn't matter. I'll just nip home and grab some for me and Ron. I need our medals, too, apparently."

Charlie chuckled and shook his head. "She's milking this for all it's worth. Can't blame her though. It's a terrific opportunity. You wouldn't believe the number of people who'll quite happily pay an exorbitant amount of money for the opportunity to rub shoulders with you, you know?"

Actually Harry did know. And had gone out of his way to avoid them. But this was a good cause, so he could put up with it for one evening.

"Everything okay, then?"

Harry furrowed his brow at the question, and Charlie cocked his head towards the bedroom door.

"Oh. Yeah, we're fine. Just had some things to talk about."

True to his word, Ron had hauled Harry into the bedroom immediately after dinner the night before and demanded that Harry tell him what was going on. Harry had found himself strangely reluctant to give Ron all the details, so he'd just talked about Domka's doubts about the ritual they'd performed, and what she thought it meant. That seemed to satisfy Ron, although it was clear that he found the so-called evidence unconvincing. But he was willing to concede that Harry had cause for concern, particularly when Harry pointed out that she hadn't finished telling him everything she knew yet.

"Right. Talk," Charlie drawled, grinning widely.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, talk. Although after that, if you really want the details, Ron threw me onto the bed and -"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Charlie said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat.

--

"Do I have to go? Nobody's interested in seeing me. You're the main attraction."

"If I have to go, so do you, so stop whining," Harry replied.

Ron sighed as he tugged at the collar of his dress robes. "I hate these things."

"Who doesn't? But it's for a good cause. You want to help out the Reserve, don't you?"

"Yeah, 'course. It's brilliant here."

Harry turned away from mirror and said, "You really like it here?"

"Yeah. I'm really enjoying working with the dragons. And even riding them wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

Harry snorted. "I had to drag you, kicking and screaming, onto the back of that dragon. And then I couldn't get you off the bloody thing!"

Ron sniggered. "It was good fun, wasn't it? Nowhere near as terrifying as I thought it'd be. I wouldn't mind doing it again, actually."

"Well, I'm sure if you mention it to Katya tonight, especially if there's a few people within earshot, she'll let you ride one any time you want. Don't forget to put your Order of Merlin on," he added.

Ron sighed and pulled the medal out of its box. "I feel like an idiot," he said, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

"Well, you look gorgeous. Very distinguished. I'm sure you'll impress everyone, tonight. Come on, cheer up. It's only for a few hours, and I'll make sure you're suitably rewarded for all your suffering when we get back here afterwards."

"Is that right?" Ron said as he caught Harry's wrist and pulled him close. "So I'm on a promise tonight then, am I?"

"Definitely," Harry said as he slipped an arm around Ron's waist and kissed him.

"I've got an even better idea. How about we skip the party altogether and go straight to the bed part?" Ron said as he slipped his hands down to cup Harry's arse and pulled him even closer. Harry moaned as Ron leant in and kissed him roughly.

There was a loud banging at the door and they heard Charlie call out, "Is it safe for someone who isn't getting any to come in there?"

Harry burst out laughing, and they broke apart as Ron shouted, "Yeah, come in."

Charlie poked his head around the door. "Time to get going. And you two look like you've been snogging again! Bloody hell, can't you keep your hands off each other for more than two bloody minutes?"

"You're just jealous," Ron said.

"Yeah, little brother, I am," Charlie said. He had a small smile on his face and looked utterly sincere. Ron flushed a little as Charlie went on, "Tidy yourselves up, you two, we've got to head off."

Harry could have kissed Charlie. As he straightened his robes and made himself look presentable he saw that Ron was doing the same; but he seemed to be standing just that bit taller, and he definitely looked more confident. His brother's sincere words had made an obvious difference. It really brought home to Harry just how difficult this was for someone like Ron, who came from such a close family. Charlie had given Ron the one thing Harry couldn't; acceptance and approval from family.

The early evening air was crisp and clean. Ron and Charlie were talking quietly as they strolled towards the administration block, and Harry allowed his thoughts to wander. He was surprised to feel fairly calm and relaxed, given the sort of evening he was expecting. He usually dreaded formal events. But he'd had a wonderful week. Last Monday, he and Ron had spent the day in Crastu. The village was wonderfully picturesque, despite their first impression of the ancient inn, and Ron had enthusiastically photographed what felt like every inch of it. And they had found some quaint shops and several stalls at the market that sold handcrafts of every sort, and had returned to the Reserve laden down with gifts and souvenirs.

Harry had seen some beautiful handmade shawls, brightly coloured and made from a warm, soft wool, and he'd bought several, thinking they'd make ideal gifts. He'd taken two along when he went to see Domka on Tuesday. She'd thanked him, assured him that Katya would love her shawl, then firmly told him to go away. That they would do no more until after the fundraising reception. Harry had initially been frustrated at the hold up, but she had been right, as it turned out. He'd spent the rest of the week working on the Reserve, and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. The work had been physically exhausting at times, but Harry hadn't laughed so much in years. Dragon handlers had the most warped sense of humour Harry had ever come across, but as Charlie had pointed out, they needed it. When an average day held the prospect of being pelted with corrosive dung, burnt to a crisp or shredded by razor sharp claws or teeth, a good sense of humour and a cool head were absolutely essential.

A smile curved his lips as he remembered his first day working on the Reserve with Charlie and Ron. He'd staggered into the cabin at the end of the day and had collapsed into one of the chairs, feeling as though he'd been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs.

Ron had smiled cheerfully, grabbed him and hauled him out of the chair. Harry had moaned in protest, but Ron had dragged him into the bathroom.

_"A long, hot shower will do you the world of good, mate. Trust me on this. My first day out with Charlie I could barely move." _

_He started the water running as Harry shrugged out of the dragonhide gear, wincing at the protests from his abused muscles._

_"I don't remember that," Harry said as he stepped under the hot water. "Oh, God, this feels good!"_

_"Yeah, it does," Ron said as he dragged his own protective gear off. "Shove over," he added, stepping into the shower behind Harry. "You'd had a close encounter with a bottle of Ogdens and were indisposed at the time. That's why you don't remember." He picked up the soap and started washing Harry's back, kneading at the muscles as he went. Harry closed his eyes, feeling a rush of guilt. After a few moments, he turned to face Ron. _

_"I'm sorry. I've been so wrapped up in this thing with Domka that I've been neglecting you. I didn't mean to."_

_Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat. I knew what I was getting into, Harry."_

_"I don't deserve you," Harry said as he wrapped his arms around Ron and rested his head on Ron's shoulder._

_"No, you don't," Ron said. "But I'm sure you can make it up to me somehow."_

_"I do love you," Harry said. He raised his head, and Ron leant in and captured his lips. _

_"We should probably finish up in here and take this to the bedroom. Charlie'll kill us if we use up all the hot water," Ron said after a minute or two._

_"There'll be plenty of hot water, I'll make sure of it," Harry muttered as he kissed Ron's neck, and then dropped to his knees. Ron groaned appreciatively, and Harry felt Ron's fingers start to massage his head as Harry sucked him. Neither of them lasted long. They were too tired and hungry, but they both needed the connection too much to wait._

"Okay, mate?"

Harry blinked, noticing for the first time that they'd already arrived at the administration block while he'd been lost in the memory. He shot Ron a grin, took a deep breath, then pushed open the door.

Katya was waiting for them as they entered the centre. She cast an assessing eye over them and nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Are we ready for battle, gentlemen?" she said. And Harry got the feeling that she wasn't joking.

--

Katya was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and paging through a mountain of paper, when Harry followed Domka into the cabin late on the following Monday morning.

"Harry! I hoped I'd catch you before I had to go to the centre," Katya said as she waved him over to the table. "Sit, have some coffee. Bunica can spare you for a few moments, I'm sure."

Harry glanced at Domka, who rolled her eyes and slowly made her way into the kitchen. Harry could hear her muttering about presumptuous children as she clattered about, and Katya chuckled.

"So, I see you survived our little social event."

"Barely," Harry said ruefully. "I think I'd rather muck out the pens. How did the fundraising go, anyway?"

Katya nodded enthusiastically. "We did very well indeed. In fact, I'm thinking of making this an annual event."

Harry stared at her in horror. "You're kidding, right?"

She reached across and patted his arm. "Do not panic. I will not inflict another one of these on you. Unless you wanted to attend, of course?"

"I'd pay not to have to come. I'm serious. You tell me how much you want, I'll send you a Gringotts draft."

"You are a strange man," Katya said, shaking her head. "You have the fame and adulation that others strive for, and yet you reject it. But between you and me, you should get used to it. You are a leader, my friend, and one day you will be called upon to take your place."

Harry shook his head, but Katya nodded. "Bunica is not the only Seer in the family, Harry."

Harry frowned. "She told me that you'd become a Seer when she died."

"I think you misunderstood. I will take her place when she goes to our mothers, but one is born with the Sight. You don't become as skilled as Bunica in a mere handful of years. It takes a lifetime."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, he said, "You wanted to see me about something?"

Katya waved a hand. "Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going. If you're enjoying your holiday and so on. I know you've both been helping out around the Reserve, and I've heard favourable reports of your work from my handlers. Sorin's brother, in particular, has shown a definite skill. You could do worse than consider working with the dragons, you know?" With that she got to her feet, waved her wand to gather her papers into a neat pile, then picked them up. "But I have to get back to my office. Paperwork is the bane of my existence. I will see you later, Harry."

Domka came out of the kitchen as Katya was leaving and saw her granddaughter off. Then she beckoned Harry over to the couch again.

"You are looking well. Your week off did you good."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You were right."

"Of course. But now it is time to get back to work, young one," Domka said.

Harry almost felt at home, sitting around the campfire in the clearing once more.

"You looked at the scroll?" he asked as Domka handed him his customary cup of herbal tea.

"Yes. It was very cleverly done, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"The scroll. It's a fake, of course. But then you knew it had to be."

"Bollocks," Harry muttered. His pride had taken enough of a battering already at the ease with which Voldemort had played him, and he'd hung on to the faint hope that perhaps the scroll, at least, had been genuine. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely positive."

Harry sighed. "At least tell me that the forgery was difficult to detect. Hermione spent a solid week examining that bloody thing, and was absolutely convinced that it was genuine."

Domka reached across and patted Harry's arm as she said, "You wanted the scroll to be genuine, and set about proving that it was. I, on the other hand, believed it to be fake, and set about finding out how it had been done. And as a Seer, I had tools and other methods available to me that you did not. You did the best you could."

Harry glared mutinously at the self-satisfied expression on Domka's face. "So if you knew it was a bloody fake, what was the point in asking to see it?"

"To make sure, of course. Once I knew for certain that it was fake, it saved much time that I did not waste looking for a single ritual. Because it does not exist. You performed two rituals. One Light, one Dark."

"So you managed to translate the scroll?"

She gave him a withering look. "Of course not. I doubt it was written in a language that was ever spoken by humans. If it had been, I'm sure your intelligent friend would have found it."

"Right," Harry muttered in defeat. "So did you learn anything useful at all from the scroll? Apart from the fact that you were right all along, I mean?"

Domka shot him an amused look, presumably at the sarcastic tone in his voice, and said, "It was important that I confirmed what I suspected, so yes, it was useful from that point of view, you are correct. But as to what rituals you actually performed; I got more useful information from you. Although the scroll does give us one important piece of information."

"And what would that be?"

"It would have been very difficult to produce. Remember, your friend is a very clever young woman, and to create something that she would be unable to detect as a forgery would not have been accomplished quickly or easily. He went to a great deal of trouble to ensure that you would not question it, and would carry out its instructions exactly as he wished, when he wished." She paused, took a sip of her tea, then continued, "It adds weight to our suspicion that it was, in fact, the Dark One himself who spent years slowly gaining your trust, under the guise of a spy within his own camp. And that scroll would have taken months of hard work to produce. All this speaks of a great deal of planning over a long period of time, and something like that is difficult to hide completely. The sheer complexity of this plan will mean that there are traces, tracks that we can uncover, and that will be what leads you to him."

--

Harry walked into the mess hall and picked up a tray. Domka had cut their session short, saying she had work to do and telling Harry to return again the following morning. So he'd decided he might as well go to the mess hall and see if he could find Ron.

"Harry! Over here, mate."

He looked around, and saw Ron waving at him from one of the tables. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, chose his lunch, and then walked over to Ron's table. He was in the middle of a group of handlers, sitting opposite Charlie, who budged over to make room for Harry to sit down.

"Got let out early, today?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it later," Harry said.

"You want to come with us this afternoon?" Charlie asked Harry. "Anica's hatchlings are ready to learn to fly. We're going to supervise their first lesson. You'll need to bring your broom."

Harry grinned at him. "Sounds brilliant. I'd love to."

"Eat up then. We'll wait for you. You'll need to put on protective gear before we head out."

--

"So how do you know the hatchlings are ready to fly?" Harry asked Charlie as they stood in front of Anica's pen.

"She's started picking them up and throwing them around," Charlie replied, grinning at the horrified look on Harry's face. "It's not as bad as it sounds. She starts off by dropping them a few feet to the floor. Encourages them to spread their wings. And once they do, she throws them up in the air and watches them glide to the ground again. She's been doing it for a week, now, and that means they're ready."

"So, you just let them out of the pen and they take off, then?"

Charlie looked taken aback. "God, no! They'd just sit there. No, it's a bit more direct than that, mate."

Charlie mounted his broom, and Harry saw that Ron and a couple of other handlers were doing the same. He quickly mounted his own and took off, following them. They flew over the top of the pen, and Harry's eyes widened. The pen was situated with its back to the end of a sheer rockface. From that angle, it looked as though it were clinging precariously and could tumble down into the valley at any moment.

"That's a hell of a drop."

Charlie nodded. The team gathered around as Charlie gave orders, positioning each flyer at strategic points. When he was satisfied, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the back of the pen, which shimmered and suddenly vanished.

"Now watch," Charlie said, hovering next to Harry. "She'll bring each hatchling to the edge of the cliff and then throw them off. We've never lost one yet; she seems to be a good judge of when they're ready to fly, but just in case..." His voice trailed off, and Harry looked back towards the pen.

The Horntail mother was standing at the edge of the drop, looking around. She seemed to recognise Charlie, because she looked straight at him for a moment before turning around and grabbing one of the hatchlings by the scruff of its neck.

Harry tensed, hardly daring to breathe as the squealing hatchling was flung over the edge of the cliff. Charlie's hand on his arm stopped his automatic reflex to dive after it as he said, "Look!"

The tiny dragon's wings were flapping madly, slowing its descent, and there was suddenly a loud whooping noise as the flapping slowed and the dragon began to glide on the thermal air currents.

The performance was repeated four more times, and finally Anica herself took to the air, flying around with her babies. She was making an odd, chirruping noise as she darted after any hatchling that seemed to be straying too far from her, and Harry sniffed, swiping his hand across his face, embarrassed to find himself wiping away tears.

"Gets to you, doesn't it," Charlie said kindly. "Always chokes me up, too."

Harry just nodded as he watched Anica finally round up her hatchlings and shepherd them back to the pen.

"They'll be worn out, now," Charlie said as he pulled his wand and pointed it at the pen once more. But instead of closing it off completely, it now appeared to be a cave opening. "She'll take them flying every day now until they're strong enough to go on their own, and then they'll move on and she'll start all over again with another clutch."

"That was..." Harry shook his head.

"Yeah, I know. Makes it all worthwhile," Charlie said. Then he let out a piercing whistle and waved an arm towards the pen. Harry followed him once more, and they landed in front of Anica's pen and waited for the others to join them.

"Thanks for letting me come along."

"You're welcome," Charlie said with a grin. "You've done your share of feeding and mucking out. Only fair you get to share the good bits, too."

"Wasn't that brilliant!" Ron seemed to be positively glowing as he landed next to them. "I thought that last one wasn't going to make it, but he pulled up at the last minute."

"They usually do," Charlie said. "And Nick was down the bottom ready to catch it just in case."

"Seems a bit harsh," Ron said. "Just thowing the poor little sods off a mountain."

"Survival of the fittest," Charlie explained. "A dragon with dependent hatchlings is very vulnerable in the wild. She protects herself and them as best she can, but she has to leave them alone to hunt, and they need to be able to fly to escape from any predators that turn up while she's gone. If they can't get away they're dead anyway." Charlie shook himself quickly. "Right. I need to get on. You two going back to the cabin or do you fancy helping out?"

Harry shot a questioning glance at Ron, who shrugged and said, "I wouldn't mind helping out this afternoon."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"Great! Come on then, lots to do..."

--

"Today we will talk of the soul. As you must surely have grasped by now, it is the crux of the Dark One's plotting and planning."

Harry sighed in resignation, but nodded in agreement. Voldemort had been obsessed with the search for immortality, and his soul was definitely involved in that.

"There are many different theories as to what it actually is. Muggles have an astonishing number of different ideas on the subject, particularly when you consider that they cannot even agree on whether it exists or not. We have a distinct advantage in that we know the soul to be very real."

Domka reached out and took his hands. She stared at him, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"This is very, very important, young one, for you to understand. It is crucial, because you must make decisions, decide how to act, and you need to know this and remember it."

Harry felt an icy trickle down his spine as Domka nodded slowly.

"A soul is eternal. It is the essence of what we are. But we are not the soul, and it is not us. The soul does not hunger, nor does it thirst. It covets neither riches nor fame, desires neither men nor women, and mortal life and death are but transitory experiences that it knows well. But it is not a mere disinterested passenger; we are not simple, empty hosts to an indifferent spirit. It shapes its brief existences, and it has many. To know the true essence of a being, what they are at heart, is to know the soul at that point in its existence. But only at that point. At the end of a mortal life, the soul has hopefully learnt a lesson. It returns to the transcendence to consider what it has learnt. There will be a new lesson for it in its next mortal life, although sometimes it is doomed to repeat a lesson if it refuses to learn. The brash, the foolish, the vainglory, the cruel, even those we call evil, or monsters; they are the young souls with many lessons yet to learn."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Consider young children. Have you ever observed them?"

Harry shook his head.

"It is instructive. They are creatures of emotion and impulse. They must touch everything, taste everything, experience everything, for the world is new and exciting. They are easily distracted. They act out of curiosity, not malice, yet their unconsidered actions can have dire consequences. They often injure themselves while doing something just to see what would happen. They are cruel and thoughtless to others because they have yet to learn empathy. Many a mother has had to console a sobbing child who has injured or killed a beloved pet because it annoyed them and they acted without thought. Most will never make that mistake again. Some, however, learn the wrong lesson. One child is capable of quite horrifying violence, while another is the peacemaker."

"So...you're saying that souls have to grow up, too. They just take a lot longer to do it?"

Domka nodded. "In a way."

"And each life is...what? Like a year at school or something?"

"That is certainly one way of looking at it."

Harry nodded absently as he tried to make sense of this new concept. "Okay. But... But if that's true, then why don't we remember any of it?"

"How can you recall a memory that, for you, does not exist?" Domka paused and stared thoughtfully off into the distance for a moment, then said, "This is not easy to explain. I will try, though there are many, far more gifted than I, who have attempted to do so and failed. There was once a Seer, an old soul who had learnt all the lessons that the mortal plane could teach. He felt much compassion for the younger souls who still stumbled, and tried to explain to those around him the true reality of existence, hoping they would understand the futility of endlessly making the same mistakes. Unfortunately he was not as successful as one might have hoped. However, you may find his explanation of rebirth useful."

Domka released Harry's hands and sat up straight. She held her hands out, and a candle appeared in each one. She held them up and said, "Here you see two candles, one red, one blue, but only the red one is lit. Now, watch." She lit the blue candle with the red, then snuffed out the red candle. "The blue candle is now lit with the flame from the red one. It is the same flame, yes?" At Harry's mystified nod she continued, "So, the flame is the same even though the candles are not. The blue candle is not the red, will never be the red, can never remember being the red, even though it was lit with the same flame." The candles vanished, and Domka sighed. "And so it is for us. The reappearance of the soul does not necessarily mean the reappearance of the person. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "I think so," he said after a moment. "But...does that mean that they're gone? My mum and dad, and Sirius and..."

Harry hadn't realised that he'd clung to the hope that he'd be reunited with them all when he finally embarked on what Dumbledore had called 'the next great adventure', and felt a profound sadness settle on him.

A small hand caught his in a surprisingly strong grip, and Harry looked up to see Domka smiling softly at him.

"The soul remembers who it was, young one; but would you wish to be burdened with the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes? Your soul has shaped you with the benefit of its experience, and that is enough. And although it has no earthly desires, it loves in a way we can barely understand. You will be with those you love again, I promise; and when you are, you will truly understand, and know that you have always been with them, and always will."

"Really?"

"I promise you," Domka said solemnly. She gave his hand a squeeze, then said, "You have much to think about, young one. And I know you grow impatient. I have been working on this problem, and tomorrow I will tell you what I know, and we will set you on the path to completing your task."

--

"So, how'd it go today?" Ron asked as he gathered Harry into his arms.

"Okay," Harry said absently. He'd been pondering what Domka had said to him all day. "Have you ever thought about our souls? What they really are?"

Ron stilled. "Um, not really. I try not to think about it," he said. "Although thinking about yours sometimes, how good it feels to just sink inside you and -"

Harry snorted and jabbed Ron in the ribs. "Souls. Spirits. Not what you're thinking, you pervert."

"Pot calling the cauldron there, mate," Ron said. Harry felt Ron's hand slip down and start caressing his arse as Ron began kissing Harry's neck.

"I'm serious, Ron."

"So am I," Ron muttered against Harry's neck. "I've been thinking about you, naked and spread out under me, all fucking day, and now here you are. Naked," Ron moved suddenly, pinning Harry beneath him, "and spread out under me."

"Can't argue with that," Harry said, then moaned as Ron rocked against him. His soul may not have carnal desires, but his body definitely had the deciding vote, and Harry slipped a hand behind Ron's head and pulled him down into a kiss.

--

"So, you said you'd tell me what you know."

Domka nodded. "And I shall. I am quite certain that your ill-advised foray into ritual casting healed the Dark One's soul. He died, but he confidently expected that that would not be a permanent state, and planned accordingly." She took a sip of her tea, then smiled at Harry.

After a minute or two of silence, Harry prompted, "And then what?"

Domka shrugged. "That is for you to discover, young one."

"I don't believe this," Harry said as he pushed himself to his feet and started pacing. "You told me this weeks ago! I thought -"

"What? That I would provide you with all the answers? I cannot do that. I told you I would tell you what I know. Not what I believe, think, or guess to be the truth."

Harry took a deep breath then exhaled loudly. "So what? This has all been a waste of time?"

"No!" The word echoed loudly around the clearing. "You must temper your impatience, Mage." The heavy emphasis on the last word wasn't lost on Harry. "Everything we have spoken off has been for a purpose and is important. Every. Single. Word."

Harry sighed and sat down again. "Right. Sorry."

Domka shook her head. "There are reasons for everything I have told you, and everything I have not, Harry."

Harry looked up in surprise. She'd never used his name before.

"I have spent much, much time meditating on what I See. I have consulted the mothers, and my crystals, and my conscience. And there are things that I cannot tell you." She raised a hand as Harry began to protest. "I have done my duty, as I must. You have all the pieces of the puzzle, and I have prepared you as well as I can. Remember my words. They will help to guide you should the need arise. But I will say this. When you find him, and you will find him, do nothing."

"What!"

"I must insist on this. The moment you believe you have found him, you must return to me, and we will discuss the best course of action to take. To do otherwise could be disastrous for all of you. I cannot emphasise that strongly enough. Give me your solemn promise, Harry Potter."

"I can't do that. He's dangerous, and if I find him -"

"No, he's not," Domka interrupted. "I told you that the one thing I was absolutely certain about was the fact that you had time. He is not in a position to endanger anyone, I promise you that. You will understand what I mean when you find him."

Harry stared at her for a moment, and then exhaled loudly. "Fine. Okay. If I find him, and he definitely is absolutely no danger to anyone, then I promise to come and see you before I do anything."

"Both you and Sorin's brother. It is important. And I mean what I say. The moment you believe that you know where he is, you do nothing more than return here. Immediately."

Domka was getting very agitated, and Harry reached out and took her hand.

"Okay, okay. I promise, all right?"

Domka stared into his eyes for a long moment, then finally gave a curt nod, rose to her feet, and Harry found himself sitting next to her in the living room of her home once more. She looked up at him and said, "How good are you at scrying?"

--

"What the hell do we have to go to bloody Glastonbury for?"

"I've told you. You don't have to come with me if you'd rather stay here."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said sharply. "I just want to know why."

"Because that's where Domka reckons he's hiding."

"Where he's... Oh, bloody hell, Harry. I know she reckons there was something a bit iffy about the ritual, but that doesn't prove a thing, mate."

"It's a lot more than that, Ron. You know I brought the scroll back from London for her to look at?" At Ron's nod, he continued, "It's fake. We were set up from the word go. The ritual didn't kill him; it healed his soul and enabled him to come back, somehow. That's what she thinks, anyway."

Ron slowly shook his head as he stared at Harry. "No. That can't be right. I saw him. He blew up, Harry. He's gone."

Harry shrugged and slumped back wearily in his chair. "I hope you're right. I really do. But I can't take the risk, Ron. If there's even the slightest chance that he survived, somehow, then I've got to check it out. You can understand that, right?"

Ron closed his eyes for a moment, then gave a soft, huffing laugh that held no trace of humour whatsoever. "Right. You're right. Fine." Then he took a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and added, "So when are we going?"

"Tomorrow morning. Domka's given me a few pointers, so we've got somewhere to start, but it could take a while."

Ron gave a resigned nod. "Better let Charlie know we'll be gone for a few days then, I suppose."

"Look, if you'd rather stay here with Charlie, I'd understand."

"We go together," Ron said firmly.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Idiot." Ron pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to Harry. "Come on. It's late and we'll need a good night's sleep if we're spending the day tramping the streets of Glastonbury tomorrow."

Harry took Ron's hand and let him pull him out of the chair. Then he wrapped his arms around Ron and kissed him.

"I love you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated way. "I already said I'm coming. You don't need to go all soppy on me." But the tender smile on his face belied his words, as did the gentle arm around Harry's shoulders as Ron shepherded him into their bedroom.

--


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

--

"You sure this is it?"

"I spent hours with Domka, staring into that bloody crystal ball. This is definitely where he's supposed to be."

"I've got to say, mate, this looks more like somewhere those relatives of yours'd live than Vol - him. I mean, I can understand it being Glastonbury, what with it being the biggest magical nexus in Britain, but this..."

Ron shook his head slowly as he looked around, and Harry couldn't do anything but agree. The street they were standing in screamed middle class respectability of the Muggle variety. Harry couldn't imagine anywhere less likely to be the hiding place of a resurrected Dark Lord. This was their sole lead, however. Scrying had only produced a series of odd images that he'd been unable to make head or tail of. Domka, fortunately, had a lot more experience at interpreting the signs, and was able to pinpoint an area on a map. Glastonbury, in Somerset. They'd finally managed to narrow it down to a small area of the town, but couldn't get anything more precise. There was far too much magical interference, which was probably the point. So here they were.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you got an actual address or something at the last minute that you didn't tell me about?"

"You know as much as I do, mate," Harry said regretfully as his gaze swept up and down the street. "I translated every word she said, and dog and stag is all she could come up with. There was nothing deer related at all in the area covered by the set of co-ordinates we narrowed it down to, you know that. Kennel Street is the only thing we could find."

"I dunno, Harry," Ron said with a sigh. "It all sounds dead iffy to me. One Patronus, maybe. That could be a coincidence. But both yours and mine lead to him? That's not good. Not that I really think we're going to find anything," he added hastily.

Harry simply nodded. They'd visited Domka first thing that morning before setting off for Glastonbury, and that was when she'd given them the final clue. It had thoroughly unsettled Ron, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that his protests had more to do with clinging on to the last scraps of denial than any real conviction that they were on a wild goose chase any longer.

"So what now, d'you reckon? Just walk up the street and see if there's anything deer-related about any of the houses?"

"Makes sense, I suppose," Harry agreed as they began walking. He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn't be that easy, however.

It wasn't. They walked up and down the street three times, carefully scanning each house and garden, and found absolutely nothing.

"This is a bloody waste of time," Ron said finally. "How about we go and find a pub and -"

"Can I help you?"

They turned to see an elderly woman standing at her front gate. She had gardening gloves on and was holding a trowel, which was pointed at them in a vaguely threatening way.

"Oh, er -"

"I've been weeding, you see, and I've watched you walking up and down the road for almost half an hour, now. Are you looking for something in particular?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged.

"It's a bit complicated, actually," Harry said. "We don't know exactly what we're looking for."

The look of suspicion on the woman's face deepened, so Ron hastily added, "It's a sort of competition. We've been given clues and have to find places. We're not from around here, though, so we're having a bit of trouble. One of the clues led to this street. Well, we think it might be this street, but the last one has us stumped."

"Oh, well, perhaps I can help," the woman said brightly, interest immediately replacing the look of suspicion on her face. "I'm quite good at puzzles. I do the cryptic crossword every day. Keep your brain active or you end up a drooling lump in one of those old people's homes, I've always said, and who wants that?"

"Brilliant!" Ron said, his most charming smile in place. "We had to look for the dog and the stag."

"I can see why you might have thought of Kennel Street," the old woman said, nodding. "But the stag..." She fell silent, staring into the distance for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "What is the clue exactly? Cryptic crosswords often have hidden meanings in the way things are worded, and your clue might be the same."

"Oh, right." Harry closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the exact words Domka had spoken, then said, "It's: _'The dog and the stag are his heart and home, the sign will point the way'_."

The old woman regarded him thoughtfully. "Well, that's given us a bit more to work with, hasn't it? The sign will point the way. I wonder..." She stared off into the distance once more, her brow furrowed as she muttered softly to herself. Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged. They stood there in silence as the woman continued to mutter, "Signs. Street signs? Shop signs? Hmmm..."

Her words gave Harry pause for thought. He hadn't really considered what 'signs' meant. He'd thought of it in more of a magical sense, like omens, but perhaps he should have been thinking more literally.

"Of course! It would fit perfectly." The old woman was suddenly grinning at them. "I think I know what that is, but it's rather an unfair clue to give to anyone who's never lived here."

"You know?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Well, I've lived in Glastonbury all my life, young man, so I can safely say that there's very little about this place that I don't know. But unless you knew the history, you'd never make sense of that clue." She paused, then said, "Won't it be cheating if I tell you, though? Perhaps you're supposed to go the library and research this yourself?"

"No, there're no restrictions like that. We can use any resources we can find. No one said we couldn't go to a primary source, especially such a charming one," Ron said with a winning smile aimed squarely at the woman, who burst out laughing.

"Go on with you, you cheeky pup!"

"We'd be really grateful," Harry added.

"Well, there used to be a coaching inn just round the corner, on the old Avebury road, but it burnt down about thirty years ago. Goodness, it was a sight! Fire engines all over the place, and the police, of course. There were several explosions, because of all the alcohol, I suppose. They suspected arson. It was terribly run down, and insured very heavily, from what I heard. But they couldn't prove anything." She nodded knowingly at them and then shrugged. "But you're not interested in thirty year old gossip, I'd imagine. The point is, it was called The Hart and Hounds. Stag and dog, you see? Now, they never bothered to rebuild it because there was a much newer pub just down the road, and they didn't think there'd be enough business. So the council bought the land and ended up building an orphanage there. Well, they don't call them that now, do they? Group homes, I think they call them now. Though what difference they think changing the name will make, I don't know. Still somewhere where poor mites who don't have a family end up." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "But that's by the by. The Inn was several hundred years old, and they put one of those historical places plaques on the wall of the new building so people would know where it used to stand. That'd be your sign, I imagine."

"That's brilliant!" Ron said enthusiastically, and the old woman looked very pleased with herself.

"I'm glad I could help. I -"

Whatever she was going to say next was lost as her front door opened and a young girl came out to stand on the front step.

"Nanna, I'm hungry."

"All right, poppet, I'll be there in a sec," she said. She turned her attention back to Ron and Harry. "You go to the end of the street and turn left. It's only just around the corner. You can't miss it."

"Um, right. Well, thank you," Harry said.

"Glad to be of help, young man. Well, I've got to get on. If my granddaughter starts trying to feed herself, it'll take me the rest of the day to clean up the mess. Good day to you."

The old lady nodded dismissively and headed back into the house. Ron gave Harry a troubled look as they began walking towards the ex-Hart and Hounds.

"An orphanage? What the hell would he be doing in an orphanage?"

"We don't know that that's where he is," Harry said cautiously. "It could simply be somewhere that holds a clue."

"I bloody well hope so," Ron said with a shudder.

Harry didn't blame him. Voldemort around small Muggle children wasn't something he wanted to contemplate.

--

They stood in front of the neat two-storey building and stared at it for a moment. The building was in darkness, and it was late enough that everyone should be asleep. They'd Disillusioned themselves earlier in the day and checked out as much of it as they could, but there'd been too many people around for them to risk trying to search the place, so they'd decided to come back later that night. Harry had determined that the only alarms the building had were on the main doors, so if they Apparated in, no one would know they'd been there.

"Ready?"

"Yeah. Let's do it," Ron replied.

They Apparated into the entrance hall, and then stood quietly for a minute or two until their eyes became accustomed to the dark.

"What now?" Ron whispered.

"I'm going to see if I can feel any other magical signatures before we start searching the place," Harry whispered back. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He'd tried this earlier in the day and found nothing, but thought it worth another try.

"Anything?" Ron asked after a few moments.

"No. I don't... Hang on a minute, I thought..." Harry was sure there'd been a flicker of something just at the edge of his senses. He sent out a tendril of magic and...

"There's something there, but it's so faint."

He slowly began following the trail towards the tiny trace of magic he'd found.

"What have you found?"

"A very faint magical signature. It's up here, somewhere."

"Could be one of the kids that live here," Ron said softly as he followed Harry up the stairs. "Once they turn three or so their magic's developed enough that you can detect it."

Harry carefully opened the first door he came to, but immediately knew that the magical signature wasn't coming from either of the two small occupants. He closed the door softly and moved on to the next room. As he eased the door open, he could tell that this was where the magical signature was coming from. He and Ron crept into the room and closed the door gently behind them.

A softly glowing nightlight was the only illumination, but it was bright enough for them to see that there was only one occupant. A large wooden cot was set against the side wall of the small room.

"This can't be right," Ron said softly. "That's a baby. They don't have enough detectable magic."

"No, it's definitely the right room. I can feel the magic coming from the cot," Harry whispered back. They crept over to the cot, and Harry conjured a small light so they could see the baby better. It was a little boy, judging by the racing car print pyjamas he was wearing. He had a mop of dark hair, and was sucking his thumb as he slept peacefully, oblivious to his visitors.

"He only looks about a year old," Ron said.

Harry nodded; he'd have to bow to Ron's superior knowledge in this area. He knew nothing about small children, even less about how to gauge their age.

"Well, he's definitely magical. And an orphan, apparently," Harry said. "We'll see if we can find out anything about him. We can't leave him here."

An obviously magically strong baby wizard would cause all sorts of problems with accidental magic. No, they definitely couldn't leave him there. He'd speak to Hermione, see what contacts she had. He felt certain they'd be able to find a magical family to adopt him.

They took a quick look around the baby's room, but couldn't find anything to show who he was. And as his was the only magical signature Harry had managed to detect in the whole building, they decided to go down to the office and search it. They'd get what information they could about the baby while they searched for clues to Voldemort's whereabouts.

As they quietly left the room, Harry noticed the number '2' painted on the door, and nudged Ron as he pointed to it.

"Well, that should make it easier to find. They must have a list somewhere in the office saying who's in which room," Ron whispered as they made their way downstairs again.

The office door was locked, but nothing a quick _Alohomora_ couldn't sort out, and Harry closed and locked the door again before casting a couple of privacy wards and then turning on the lights.

"Right. You take the desk, and I'll make a start on the filing cabinets," Harry said as he unlocked the cabinet and opened the top drawer.

It seemed to be full of papers relating to the building and general administration, so he closed it and opened the next one. This was full of files, but none of them had any names on them, just numbers. Children's case files, he assumed. It was going to take them ages to go through and read each one, unless they were lucky enough to find a list that put a name to the numbers. And that wouldn't help until they found out the name of the child in room 2, Harry knew, so he closed it and opened the next drawer. There were more files, but these had names on them. He pulled one out and flipped it open. They seemed to be staff files. He put the file back and quickly scanned the names. There were only three male staff members, but a quick flick through their files was enough to tell Harry that none of them were likely to be Voldemort in hiding, especially since all of them no longer worked there. He closed the drawer with a sigh and opened the bottom drawer. There were more case files, but these were stamped 'closed'. Harry sighed again as he pushed the drawer shut and straightened up.

"Any luck?" Ron asked.

"Well, all the files are in there if we can find out that kid's name. Hopefully we'll find his number, too, 'cause all the files are numbered and if we don't have his number we'll have to go through them all. Confidentiality, I suppose. There were staff files too, but no one that looked likely to be Voldemort in disguise. Couldn't see anything else that could be useful. You found anything yet?"

"Nah. Give us a hand, will you? There's piles of stuff here."

Harry took the chair on the other side of the desk and Ron pushed a pile of papers towards him. He'd just started flicking through it when Ron gave a cry of triumph.

"Found something! This looks a list of all staff and children in the centre."

Ron placed the sheet of paper in the middle of the desk so they could both see it and Harry scanned the page. There it was: Room 2, Black, Case No. 42-386GS. Harry's eyes widened as he read the name. Finding a child named Black here was just too much of a coincidence.

"Well, that makes things more complicated," Ron said. "But there's no way Vo - he can be hiding here. There's a current staff listing here too and you're right - they're all women. Unless he had a sex change. And I'm going to have to wash my brain now," Ron added with a shudder.

Harry laughed softly. "You're an idiot."

"But you love me anyway."

"Yeah, I do," Harry said softly. He knew he had that stupid, soppy grin on his face again because Ron was rolling his eyes at him, but he couldn't help it. Ron leant in and dropped a quick kiss on his lips.

"Daft git. Anyway, you want to look for that kid's file?"

Harry opened the filing cabinet again and flicked through the folders until he found the one labelled, 42-386GS. He was surprised to find that it was quite thick.

"Look, we're running out of time and it'll take too long to try and read all this here. I'm going to make a copy and we can take it with us."

Ron glanced up at the clock. "Shit, I didn't realise it was that late. We'd better get a move on."

Harry concentrated for a moment, and a second folder appeared on the desk. He shrank the file and stuffed it into his pocket. Then they turned off the lights, dismantled the wards, and Apparated back to the house.

--

They'd been asleep on their feet by the time they'd returned home just before dawn, and had gone straight to bed. So Harry was surprised to find that it was only a little after nine when he awoke. He'd expected to sleep until at least lunchtime. Ron was snoring peacefully next to him, so Harry snuggled up to him and closed his eyes again. But sleep eluded him, so he carefully got out of bed, making sure not to disturb Ron, and headed down to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

As he sipped at his tea, he mulled over their spectacular lack of success in Glastonbury the previous day. Domka had been so certain that she was right. He sighed, then suddenly remembered the file they'd copied at the Children's Home. He'd left it in the pocket of his jacket, as they'd been too tired to think straight by the time they'd got home. He Summoned the shrunken folder and placed it on the table, where it immediately resized itself. He flipped it open and began to read the first page.

He froze in shock, quickly scanned the rest of the sheet, and then started from the top of the page again, not quite believing what he was reading.

_Child's name: Thomas Sirius BLACK_

_D.O.B.: 23.6.2002_

_Mother: Bella Lestrange(?) BLACK_

_D.O.B.: Unknown. Assessed Age: Approx 35 years._

_Address: Unknown_

_Father: Unknown_

_D.O.B.: N/A_

_Address: N/A_

_Admittance Notes: Initial examination indicated foetus approx. 34 weeks gest. Mother severely dehydrated, signs of psychosis, incoherent, hallucinating. ?Drug use. No history given. No record of mother receiving antenatal care. Ind. Foetal distress. Refer Obs/Gyn Consult. Emergency C/S ind._

_Mother deceased approx. 18 hours post-partum. ?Drug-related, ?Pre-eclampsia, ?HELLP Syndrome. Post Mortem report tba._

Harry skimmed over the rest of the medical details. Bellatrix had had a baby, and then died. The baby had almost died as well. He was about a month or so premature, and had spent a couple of months in a neo-natal unit. He'd seemed to have a lot of things wrong with him, according to the medical notes, but he'd recovered remarkably well. Harry turned to the next page. It was an initial report by someone called Hilary Carpenter, who was apparently the social worker assigned to the baby. She'd obviously questioned everyone who'd had contact with Bellatrix, and the meagre facts she'd assembled attested to how little she had told them. Harry took a sip of his tea and began to read through her report. As he got to the end of the typewritten notes, he smiled grimly. This was the information Domka had led them to, he was sure of it. He summoned a ballpoint pen and a notebook, and started to read through the report again, taking notes as he went.

Bellatrix had been found by a passing motorist in Hobbs Lane. She had been lying in the middle of the road, and he'd immediately called an ambulance. She had been obviously in labour, and was delirious. The ambulance officers had been mystified as to what she was doing there. There were no houses around for miles, and she couldn't have walked too far in her condition. The social worker had added a side note, explaining the local superstitions about Hobbs Lane. Locals had claimed to see strange lights there, and ghosts and other odd happenings were regularly reported. They wouldn't venture there after dark, and even the usually level-headed ambulance officers had claimed that they'd felt an urge to leave immediately. Obviously Muggle-repelling wards, Harry thought. He just hoped the house Bellatrix had been hiding in wasn't under the Fidelius.

He read on. In a rare moment of lucidity, Bellatrix had told them her name and demanded to know if the baby was all right. But they'd got nothing sensible from her after that. The social worker theorised that Bellatrix had been a member of some sort of cult. Glastonbury seemed to attract people with 'alternative' views, she wrote. The obvious lack of antenatal care, the strange clothing and the fact that she seemed to be speaking Latin some of the time pointed towards a fundamentalist group of some sort, possibly religious. The maternity unit staff had reported that Bellatrix had seemed very distressed about betraying the Lord, pleading for forgiveness over and over. She'd screamed obscenities at the midwives, saying they were filthy and unworthy. The social worker had added another side note, stating that she'd referred the case to the police for investigation, as she was sure the woman's death could be attributed to being refused access to medical treatment. She'd obviously escaped, or perhaps been dumped by her panicked associates when it became clear how ill she was. Either way, it needed to be followed up urgently.

"Good luck with that," Harry muttered.

They'd performed an emergency caesarean section, as Bellatrix had lapsed into a coma and the unborn baby was severely distressed. The baby had been immediately transferred to the local neo-natal unit. Bellatrix had died some 18 hours later, without regaining consciousness. Harry sighed. Part of him rejoiced that the evil bitch who'd killed Sirius and God knew how many others was dead. But he couldn't help feeling sorry for the baby who'd been left behind, an orphan. Although with Bellatrix for a mother, the poor little sod was probably better off, Harry thought ruefully.

The hospital staff had thoroughly searched Bellatrix's clothing for any clues as to who she was or where she'd come from, but they'd found nothing. From the description of the items, she'd obviously been wearing robes. They couldn't find any labels, or any pockets. Well they wouldn't; they'd be charmed, Harry was certain. They'd found her wand, though. She'd been clutching it, but the ambulance staff had prised it out of her hand immediately. They didn't know how lucky they were. If she'd been lucid, she'd have killed them.

The final paragraph noted that they'd named the child in accordance with what they assumed was the mother's wishes. Just before she'd lapsed into the coma, she'd apparently believed that she was talking to someone named Sirius Black. She'd apologised over and over, and said that she wanted to give the child his name. The Sister in charge had made a note of this, thinking it possible that he was the child's father. It was decided that Sirius was a little exotic, however, and as the baby was born on the feast day of St. Thomas, he was named accordingly, with Sirius as a middle name to honour the mother's wishes. There was a final comment in biro, noting that the Sister in charge of the ward was a nursing nun, which explained her manner of naming the child.

"Well, that explains that," Harry said to himself as he picked his cup up. Noticing it was empty, he decided to make a fresh cup before tackling the rest of the file. The fact that she'd apologised to Sirius in her delirious ramblings was a bit of a shock, though he shouldn't really be surprised. He'd learnt a lot more about family loyalties since he'd left Hogwarts, and about how binding the family tie was. Which gave Harry something else to consider. Bellatrix had identified herself as a Black and named her child accordingly. Harry had a suspicion that this was significant in the magical world, and wondered if it meant he was responsible for the baby, as head of the Black family.

He sat down at the table again and glanced over his notes. Ron had been more or less right about the child's age, given that he'd been born prematurely and had been really ill. He was probably a bit smaller than he should have been at almost fifteen months old, Harry guessed. He wondered idly who the father was. He pulled the notepad towards him and picked up the pen. A quick calculation put the probable date of conception around September, 2001. A month before the Diagon Alley battle.

Harry underlined the date, then frowned as he remembered that the baby had been born about six weeks early, which made it more likely to have been about the same time as... He stilled, then quickly checked his calculations again. It had to be a coincidence, surely. He held out a hand and seemingly plucked a couple of calendars from thin air. He remembered Hermione telling him once that women were actually pregnant for forty weeks, and that the commonly stated nine months was a bit misleading. Checking the dates again in the file, he started counting backwards.

Harry exhaled heavily, Banished the calendars and reached for the file again. A suspicion was forming in his mind that he was finding rather difficult to give credence to. The next page in the file was a copy of the police report. Unsurprisingly, they'd found nothing. Bella Lestrange Black didn't appear to exist, and the computer enhanced photograph they'd shown around had produced no one who knew her. The Forensic Department had examined her clothing and the 'carved wooden stick' that she'd clung to so desperately, but had turned up nothing. They'd packed up the meagre belongings and returned them to the hospital. Harry scribbled a note on the pad to remind himself to find out where they were now. The Muggles may not have been able to find any pockets in her robes, but Harry knew they'd be there. And he intended to check every single one.

The next few pages seemed to be medical reports and assessments of the baby. Harry skimmed them, but didn't really understand most of the medical terminology that was used. He would ask Hermione to take a look at them if it seemed necessary. There was a cardboard divider at this point in the file, and Harry decided that he might as well stop and have something to eat.

After breakfast, Harry opened the folder again and turned to the second section of the file. A quick flick through showed that these were reports of some sort. They seemed to be handwritten by a variety of people. He returned to the top sheet, which was headed Case Summary, Page 5. Harry leafed through to page 1 of the summary and began reading.

When the baby was finally deemed well enough to leave hospital, he'd been placed with a foster family. The social worker had noted that the paperwork was being prepared to gain permission to place the child for adoption. There followed some notes about prospective adoptive families, and arrangements for pre-adoption fostering. It wasn't until halfway down page 3 that Harry found something interesting. The adoption process had been almost complete when it had suddenly broken down, because the adoptive mother had been placed under the care of a psychiatrist. Harry's eyebrows shot up, and he immediately began hunting through the handwritten notes for the details.

The social worker had apparently received a panicky phone call from the adoptive father, telling her to come and get the baby immediately. She'd arrived at the house to a scene that was like something out of a horror film. The adoptive mother was on her knees in the middle of the living room, praying loudly. She was clutching a crucifix and leafing frantically through the family bible as she prayed. The local priest was kneeling in front of her, talking to her in a low, calm voice, but she seemed to be unaware of his presence. The adoptive father had assured Ms. Carpenter that the baby was fine and then taken her up to the baby's room. He said he'd left it the way he'd found it when he got home from work. The cot had several strings of rosary beads hanging from it. There were crucifixes, prayer books, and religious pictures scattered all over the room. The adoptive father had told her that he'd heard the baby crying frantically even before he'd entered the house. He'd found his wife, much as she was now, and she'd begged him to get the priest because the baby was possessed. He'd immediately called the priest, his family doctor, and the social worker.

Ms. Carpenter had found the baby in the kitchen, being fed by a woman who introduced herself as the doctor's practice nurse. The doctor had asked her to come to the house immediately and take care of the baby until the social worker arrived, as the adoptive father simply couldn't cope. Ms. Carpenter had called an ambulance and had the baby taken to hospital to be examined, and he was kept there for twenty-four hours for observation before being placed with a foster family. She'd requested a copy of the psychiatric report, and noted that a copy was placed in the child's file as well as the family file. Harry noted the date of the report. The baby would have been nine months old. Cursing under his breath, he leafed through the folder again, searching for the psychiatric report. Once again, he found the medical jargon almost incomprehensible. It spoke of psychotic episodes and hallucinations. It was obvious to Harry that she'd witnessed accidental magic by the baby. But that shouldn't have been possible; he was too young, surely. With a sigh, he turned back to the case summary. The baby had been placed with three foster families subsequent to the disastrous adoption attempt, and in each case the family had contacted the social worker and told her that it wasn't working out, and requested that the child be removed immediately.

It was obvious from the case notes that this frustrated the social worker. None of the families would give an explanation for their request, other than stating that the baby was not fitting in. So he'd been placed in the group home, and had been there for two months. The staff hadn't reported any problems, saying he was a placid, cheerful little boy who loved to play and caused them no trouble at all. Rather quiet, and a bit clingy at times, but that was only to be expected, given the breakdown of so many placements in such a short time. Obviously, with so many other kids to look after, the staff at the children's home didn't watch him too carefully, Harry concluded. But it was probably only a matter of time before someone saw something suspicious. He'd have to do something about finding the baby a magical home, and sooner rather than later. First things first, however. He had a resurrected Dark Lord to track down before he took on anything else. And now, finally, he had a solid lead.

Harry picked up his notebook and scanned his notes. He realised he still hadn't found out where Bellatrix's effects were kept. He eyed the thick folder distastefully, and then with a sigh began to page through it methodically. As is always the way with these things, he found the information he needed right at the back of the folder. But he consoled himself with the thought that he'd at least scanned the entire file now, so he wouldn't be missing any vital information simply because he hadn't bothered going through it.

The hospital had sent Bellatrix's effects to the social worker, and she'd arranged for them to be stored at the Social Services Head Office until such time as the baby found a permanent home.

"Another night of breaking and entering," he muttered to himself as he made a note of the address on the notepad. He paused, then copied down the baby's reference number from his file, assuming that Bellatrix's belongings would be stored under that rather than her name.

He closed the folder and placed the notepad on top of it, then glanced at the kitchen clock. He was surprised to see that it had taken him almost two hours to go through the file. He decided to take a cup of tea up for Ron, and see if he was awake.

He pushed the bedroom door open and crept into the bedroom. Ron was still lying flat on his back, snoring softly. Harry put the cup on the bedside table, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face as he undressed and carefully slipped into the bed. Then he slowly eased the covers down and took a moment to enjoy the view.

"You just sight-seeing?"

Harry looked up, to see Ron peering at him blearily.

"You've ruined it, now," Harry said with a grin. "I was going to wake you up with a smile on your face."

"Don't let me stop you. I'm sound asleep, honest. I'm always talking in my sleep. Well known fact, that."

"Well, as long as you're definitely asleep," Harry said. Then he leant forward and dropped a kiss on the head of Ron's slowly awakening cock. Ron let out a loud snore, which would have been more convincing if he hadn't moaned at the end of it as Harry started sucking him.

--

Ron did indeed have a smug smile on his face as he sat down at the kitchen table, and Harry knew there was a similar look on his own face as he watched Dobby bustling about, getting their lunch. The elf had been ecstatic when he'd appeared in the kitchen and found Harry putting the kettle on. Dobby had scolded him soundly for not calling for him, and then insisted that Harry sit down with Ron while he made lunch for them.

"Is you home now from your holidays?" Dobby asked as he placed several plates of food on the kitchen table.

"Not really," Harry said. "We had to come back to England to sort some things out, but we're going back to Romania in a day or so. We're not sure what we'll be doing after that."

Dobby nodded. "Well, when you is home, you let Dobby know! Is Dobby's job to take care of Harry Potter and Wheezy Ron."

"Of course," Harry said solemnly. "Sorry, Dobby."

Dobby fixed him with a look that promised trouble if Harry didn't do as he was told, then he vanished with a soft 'pop'.

"That told you!" Ron said with a snigger. "So, you had a look through that yet?" He gestured at the folder on the table, then started piling food onto his plate.

"Yeah. I've read about half of it, and skimmed the rest."

Harry reached across and pushed the folder towards Ron, who shook his head.

"No point me ploughing through it too, mate. Just give me the edited highlights, yeah?"

"Oh, I think you need to read at least the first page for yourself," Harry said, deliberately keeping his expression as bland as possible.

Ron shot him a suspicious look, but flipped the folder open. A moment later he made a choking sound.

"Fucking hell! You have got to be joking." Ron looked up and glared at Harry. "Very funny. Where's the real file?"

"You're reading it," Harry said calmly.

Ron stared at him, then slowly shook his head. "You're telling me that that kid is... Fucking hell." He pulled the folder closer and started reading the page again. "I don't understand what some of this means," he said after a minute or two. "The Healer's notes," he clarified as he looked up at Harry again.

"No, me neither. Doesn't really matter though. It's clear that she died, and we don't really need all the details. Take a look at the next page."

Ron nodded and turned the page, his lunch ignored. Harry had finished eating by the time Ron looked up from the folder again.

"You've read this?" Ron asked. At Harry's nod, he continued, "The Muggles didn't understand what she meant. About naming the kid, I mean. She didn't mean she wanted to call him Sirius. She meant she was declaring him a Black."

"Yeah, I thought it might have been something like that."

"So what are you going to do?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "About what in particular?"

Ron sighed. "She's declared her baby a Black before witnesses. You're the head of the House of Black. You're his Paterfamilias, mate. He's your responsibility now. So what are you going to do with him?"

Harry exhaled loudly. "I don't know," he said wearily. "When I read that bit, I had a horrible suspicion it was something like that, but I'd hoped I was wrong."

Ron shook his head.

"Fine. Right. Well I can't do anything at the moment. I've got Voldemort Mark II to track down and deal with."

"But we haven't got any idea where to look next, have we? So we might as well -"

"Actually, we do," Harry interrupted. "Look, your food is going cold. Why don't you finish eating while I tell you what I discovered in my reading this morning?"

--

As they were breaking into an office building this time, they didn't have to worry about anyone being awake and seeing them. So they simply waited until it was dark before they Apparated into the lobby.

"This is getting to be a habit," Ron whispered as he and Harry made their way as quietly as they could through the darkened corridors. They hadn't seen any sign of security alarms or guards, but that didn't mean they weren't there.

"You didn't have to come with me," Harry whispered back.

"I'm not letting you do this on your own, mate. Who knows what trouble you'd get yourself into," Ron said with a grin. "Are you sure we're going the right way?"

Harry nodded. If he concentrated very hard, he could just feel the tiny trace of magic from the wand core. Of course, there were lots of walls and doors, not to mention stairways, between them and their goal, which made things a little more difficult. "It's definitely down here somewhere," he said. He suddenly stopped dead. "Here. It's here."

Ron looked dubiously at the blank wall in front of them, and said, "That's good, Harry. How about we find the door, though?"

There was only one door in the entire corridor and when they opened it, they discovered why. The storage area was enormous. It didn't take them too long to find what they were searching for, however, and Harry picked up the small box and tucked it under his arm.

"Hang on," Ron said quickly. "Aren't they going to discover it's missing?"

Harry shook his head. "Nobody here will look for it unless they get a request for it, and that won't happen now, will it?"

"Good point."

Harry nodded at Ron, and with a sharp crack, they were gone.

--

Harry carried the box into the kitchen and set it on the table. It was sealed tightly with brown tape, and he ran a finger over it to cut it open. He eased the top off the box, and he and Ron peered at its contents for a moment before Ron reached in and picked up Bellatrix's wand.

"Looks like they tried to take it apart," he said as he held it up to the light.

Harry could see tape wrapped around the handle, and near the tip of the wand. He reached into the box and pulled out the rest of its contents. Ron identified some of the odd-shaped garments as traditional witch's underwear, and Harry hastily returned those to the box after a cursory examination. There were no shoes, and a vision of a deathly ill Bellatrix stumbling barefoot along a deserted country lane, frightened and desperately searching for help, suddenly assailed him. He pushed away the pity that swelled within him, and picked up the robes. At first glance, there did indeed appear to be no pockets of any sort. But Harry could feel the latent magic of the concealment charms, and dispelled them.

He found two deep pockets. One was empty, but the other held a pouch of galleons and a slip of paper that read, "_Bellatrix Lestrange resides at Poulton Redoubt_."

Harry handed the piece of paper to Ron, who read it then said, "Is that enough, do you think? If she's the Secret Keeper, and she's dead, is having the piece of paper that she's hopefully written the address on enough?"

Harry chewed his bottom lip as he shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine, mate," he said eventually. "She's dead, so the Secret is no longer true. That might have broken the charm. We'll find out tomorrow, though, won't we?"

--


End file.
